THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


; 


, 


LIFE,  LETTEKS, 


POSTHUMOUS    WORKS 


Edited  by  her  Sister, 

CHARLOTTE   BREMER. 

Translated  from  the  Swedish  by 
FREDR.  MILOW. 

THE  POETRY  MARKED  WITH  AN  ASTERISK  TRANSLATBO  BY 

EMILY  NONNEN. 


NEW  YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY  KURD  AND  HOUGHTON 

459  BKOOME  STREET 
1868. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

IIURD   AND   HOUGHTON, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of 
New  York. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BT 

H.    0.   HOUGHION   AND   COMPANY. 


p 


M 
>* 

2£         "I  HECLARE  hereby  distinctly  that  I  accept  the  terms  and  conditions  set 
0*      forth  in  the  memorandum  of  agreement,  dated  15th  October,  1867,  trans- 
mitted to  me  by  Messrs.  Kurd  and  Houghton,  of  New  York,  relating  not 
only  to  the  exclusive  right  of  these  gentlemen  of  printing  and  publishing 
at  their  own  expense  and  charge,  in  the  United  States  of  America,  a  Biog- 
raphy  written  by  my  wife,  Charlotte  Bremer,  of  her  sister,  the  late  Miss 
3»        Fredrika  Bremer,  but  also  to  my  share  in  the  profit  accruing  from  the  sale 
If)       of  the  said  work,  and  the  time  mentioned  therein  for  payments  of  said 
z^      share,  together  with  what  else  is  contained  in  the  said  memorandum. 

i  "P.  QUIDING.  ] 

"  STOCKHOLM,  November  6.  1867." 


O 
O 

GO 

Ul 

2: 


4-13058 


PREFACE. 


WHEN  noble  and  distinguished  individuals  have  fiinishecl 
their  pilgrimage  upon  earth,  a  more  general  desire  is  usu- 
ally felt  to  become  acquainted  with  every  thing  relating  to 
them  —  with  every  thing  in  connection  with  them  —  during 
their  journey  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  A  wish  has 
accordingly  been  expressed  in  the  Old  as  well  as  in  the 
New  World,  that  a  sketch  of  the  life  of  Fredrika  Bremer 
might  be  written  and  published  by  some  person  who  was 
dear  to  her,  —  some  friend,  who  fully  understood  how  to 
judge  of  her  and  her  writings,  and  who  was  perfectly 
acquainted  with  even  the  most  trifling  circumstances  of 
her  life,  and  able  to  represent  the  same  faithfully. 

It  is  a  matter  of  great  interest  to  contemplate,  in  re- 
markable characters,  the  innate  natural  disposition  of  the 
child,  and  to  watch  its  development ;  but  it  is  more  inter- 
esting still  to  mark  the  outward  relations  of  life,  under 
which  the  child  has  grown  up,  —  and  which  always  have 
such  a  material  influence  upon  the  young  mind,  —  the 
struggles  and  the  trials  it  has  had  to  undergo  in  the  posi- 
tion in  the  world  in  which  it  has  pleased  the  Almighty  to 
place  it,  there  to  let  circumstances  and  adversities,  often 
not  known  by  man,  be  its  best  teacher.  Intellectual  and 
highly  gifted  natures  are  always  deeply  sensitive ;  often, 
like  the  sensitive  plant,  shrinking  under  the  slightest 


viii  PREFACE. 

of  the  essential  characteristics  of  Fredrika  Bremer.  They 
resemble,  in  many  respects,  the  well  known  letters  of 
Madame  de  Sevigne'  to  her  beloved  daughter,  Madame  de 
Grignan,  —  the  same  ease  and  grace  of  style,  the  same 
exclusive  feeling  for  the  persons  to  whom  they  are  written. 
The  letters  of  the  former  reflect  motherly,  those  of  the 
latter  sisterly,  love,  which  sees  every  thing  belonging  to  its 
object  in  a  beautifying  and  poetical  light. 

Here  are  also  given  some  extracts  of  Fredrika  Bremer's 
letters  to  a  friend,  who  had  the  sorrow  of  losing  two  chil- 
dren. Perhaps  the  consolatory  thoughts,  with  which  Fre- 
drika had  the  happiness  to  assuage  the  grief  of  this  friend 
may  bring  comfort  with  them  when  read  by  a  mother 
severely  tried  under  similar  circumstances. 

To  these  letters  are  added  some  others  which  merit  to 
be  preserved,  as  showing  Fredrika  Bremer's  views  on  some 
important  subjects,  and  which  are,  besides,  remarkable  for 
the  liveliness  and  grace  of  their  style. 

Amongst  the  papers  left  by  my  sister  were  also  found 
several  poems  and  writings,  and  some  sketches  more  or 
less  finished. 

I  have  selected  some  of  these  to  be  published  with  the 
others,  and  I  have  besides  inserted  a  few  which  were 
printed  previously  in  some  obscure  annuals,  but  which 
were  afterwards  revised  by  my  sister.  Her  Autobiography, 
the  composition  of  which  was  interrupted  shortly  after  my 
father's  death,  and  shortly  before  she  became  for  some  time 
an  inmate  of  my  home,  is  with  few  omissions  published 
here. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOB 

BIOGRAPHY  .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       •  1 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY .       .       .       .  101 

LETTERS 117 

SKETCHES 268 

My  Dream 268 

A  Vision 270 

A  Violet,  found  in  Stockholm  in  1827 273 

At  Forty  Years  of  Age 278 

My  Window,  1825.    The  Visitor 288 

My  Window,  1855.    New  Prospects.    The  Beggar-Woman    .  296 

The  Sisters 311 

An  Evening  with  the  Sisters  at  Werna 320 

The  Morning 332 

The  Light- House 337 

TheEagless 359 

The  Romance,  the  Epos  of  our  Day 367 

The  Child's  Prayer 372 

May  Thoughts 374 

The  Grateful  Little  Flower 376 

The  Ugly  Hand  and  the  Beautiful  Hand 377 

Christmas  Eve  and  Christmas  Matins 383 

POEMS 407 

Hymn 407 

Gospel  Tidings 407 

The  Lord's  Supper 408 

To  my  Sisters •  410 

The  Cradle  of  Love 411 

The  Star 412 

The  Poetry  of  Spring 413 

Autumn  Sighs 415 

The  Cripple's  Mission 416 

The  Song  of  the  Weary  One 418 

Resignation 420 


CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

Consolation  in  Nature 420 

Cradle  and  Grave 421 

Ay  Morning  Song     .........  424 

Peace 425 

The  Volcano 426 

Chilly  blows  the  Wind 426 

Had  I  Strong  Faith 428 

I  Trust  in  Thee 429 

The  Sage  and  the  Cataract 429 

On  reading  Bishop  Esaias  TegneVs  Poem,  "  Resignation  "          .  432 

The  Sound  in  Time  of  Peace 434 

My  Wrinkles 435 

Summer  Evenings 437 

The  Grave 438 

The  Last  Song  of  the  Lonely  One 439 


BIOGRAPHY. 


FREDRIKA  BREMER  was  born  in  Tuorla  Manor-house, 
near  Abo,  in  Finland,  on  the  17th  of  August,  1801.  Her 
father,  the  Bruks-patron,  or  Iron-master,  Carl  Fredric 
Bremer,  was  descended  from  an  ancient  German  noble 
family,  which  settled  in  Sweden  in  the  reign  of  King  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus  the  Great ;  her  mother  was  Brigitta  Char- 
lotta  Hollstrom.  Fredrika's  paternal  grandfather,  Jacob 
Bremer,  had  removed  from  Sweden  to  Finland,  in  which 
latter  country  he  had,  by  commercial  enterprises,  iron- 
works, and  factories  prudently  managed,  succeeded  in  ac- 
cumulating considerable  wealth,  while  giving  bread  to  sev- 
eral hundred  industrious  people,  who  had  him  to  thank  for 
their  prosperity  and  comfort.  Out  of  his  rich  store  he 
gave  liberally  to  the  poor  and  needy,  and  at  his  death  he 
was  therefore  generally  regretted  in  Finland.  He  was 
twice  married.  In  his  first  marriage  with  a  young  Lady 
Pipping,  he  had  eleven  children,  of  which  only  five  sur- 
vived him  —  three  sons  and  two  daughters.  One  of  these 
daughters  married  the  Governor  of  the  county  of  Wasa, 
Krabbe;  and  the  other,  Baron  Hisingdr,  a  counselor  of 
the  Royal  Court  of  Justice  in  Abo.  In  his  second  wedlock 
with  the  young  and  handsome  daughter  of  the  Assessor  of 
the  Royal  Court  of  Justice,  Mr.  Salonius,  he  had  two  chil- 
dren, Carl  Fredric  and  Agatha.  The  latter  was  married 
at  the  age  of  sixteen  to  an  old  gentleman,  Mr.  Carleson, 
one  of  the  court  chamberlains  ;  and  when,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  she  became  a  widow,  and  free  to  follow  the 
i 


2  BIOGRAPHY. 

dictates  of  her   heart,  she  married  General  Baron,  after- 
wards Field-Marshal  Count  Fabian  Wrede. 

Foreseeing  the  fate  which  was  in  store  for  Finland,  his 
heart  overflowing  with  grief,  my  father  determined  to  re- 
move to  Sweden  before  the  dreaded  hour  should  arrive. 
After  having  sold  one  of  his  estates,  he  left  Finland  in  the 
year  1804,  together  with  his  wife,  his  mother-in-law,  and 
four  children  born  in  that  country,  and  settled  in  Stock- 
holm. The  following  year  he  purchased  the  estate  of 
Arsta,  in  the  parish  of  Oster  -  Hanninge,  about  three 
Swedish,  or  twenty  English,  miles  from  the  capital.  Little 
children  of  three  years  of  age  cannot  have  any  recollec- 
tions ;  and  all  that  I  can  remember  is,  that  we  lived  in 
Abo,  beside  a  market-place,  in  a  house  which  belonged  to 
my  parents. 

My  mother  had  brought  with  her  from  Finland  a  young 
housekeeper,  a  Miss  Louise  Synnerberg,  who  became 
Fredrika's  and  my  first  teacher.  From  her  we  learned  to 
read  Swedish  ;  and,  in  1806,  when  I  had  completed  my 
sixth,  and  Fredrika  had  not  quite  attained  her  fifth  year, 
we  had  a  governess  whom  we  have  to  thank,  not  only  for 
all  that  we  have  learnt,  but  also  for  her  motherly  tender- 
ness and  kindness  towards  us.  The  name  of  this  friend  so 
dear  to,  so  beloved  by  us,  was  Sara  Eleanore  de  Frumerie ; 
she  was  descended  from  a  French  emigrant  family.  Hav- 
ing no  property  of  her  own,  and  having  devoted  herself  to 
the  calling  of  a  teacher,  she  determined  to  drop  the  de, 
calling  herself  Miss  Frumerie.  Just,  truthful,  and  God- 
fearing, she  laid  the  foundation  of  all  that  was  good  in  us. 
By  her  pleasant  and  judicious  method  of  imparting  knowl- 
edge to  us,  she  made  her  pupils  not  only  anxious  to  learn, 
the  more  the  better,  but  also  to  find  a  real  pleasure  in 
learning.  To  her  we  came  in  all  our  troubles,  and  in  her 
we  placed  an  unbounded  confidence, 

At  the  time  when  Fredrika  and  I  were  children,  there 
did  not  exist  the  same  relation  between  parents  and  chil- 


BIOGRAPHY.  3 

dren  as  nowadays.  Severe  parents  belong  now  to  the 
exceptions ;  at  that  time  they  were  generally  severe,  and 
children  felt  for  them  more  fear  than  love  and  confidence. 
I  remember  still  how  frequently,  when  we  heard  the  voices 
of  our  parents  on  their  return  home,  we  hastened  to  hide 
ourselves  in  our  governess's  room,  or  in  that  of  our  Finland 
nurse,  old  Lena.  During  the  winters,  in  the  first  years  of 
our  residence  in  Stockholm,  my  parents  used  to  be  a  great 
deal  out  in  the  fashionable  world,  and  we  children  saw 
them  rarely  except  at  stated  times  in  the  day.  At  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  we  were  to  be  ready  dressed,  and 
had  to  come  in  to  say  "  Good  morning  "  first  to  my  mother, 
who  sat  in  a  small  drawing-room  taking  her  coffee.  She 
looked  at  us  with  a  scrutinizing  glance  during  our  walk 
from  the  door  up  to  her  chair.  If  we  had  walked  badly,  we 
had  to  go  back  again  to  the  door  to  renew  our  promenade, 
curtsey,  and  kiss  her  hand.  If  our  curtsey  had  been  awk- 
wardly performed,  we  had  to  make  it  over  again.  Poor 
little  Fredrika  could  never  walk,  stand,  sit,  or  curtsey  to 
the  satisfaction  of  my  mother,  and  had  many  bitter  and 
wretched  moments  in  consequence.  Then  we  had  to  go  to 
salute  my  father.  "When  we  entered  his  outer  room,  the 
footman  laid  down  a  large  square  carpet  in  the  centre  of 
the  floor,  and  placed  on  it  a  chair,  on  which  my  father  sat 
down,  after  having  been  enveloped  in  a  large  white  cloak 
which  reached  down  to  the  ankles.  Mr.  Hagelin,  his  hair- 
dresser —  a  real  original  —  in  a  light-gray  overcoat,  then 
made  his  appearance  with  a  comb  stuck  behind  his  ear 
and  a  powder-puff  in  his  hand,  —  himself  powdered,  bow- 
ing deeply  and  scraping  with  one  foot,  first  to  my  father, 
and  then  to  us  little  ones.  He  handed  the  powder-puff  to 
the  footman,  who  was  to  hold  it,  while  he  himself  undid 
the  ribbon  tied  round  the  pigtail,  and  then  combed  and 
replaited  it.  After  that  the  powder-box  was  produced,  the 
puff  dipped  into  it,  and  Mr.  Hagelin,  like  a  true  amateur, 
with  a  sweet  smile  on  his  countenance,  his  head  inclined 


4  BIOGRAPHY. 

on  one  side,  stepping  back  now  and  then  to  take  a  survey 
of  the  effect  of  the  powdering  process,  powdered  my 
father's  head  and  face  so  thoroughly,  that  he  was  unable  to 
open  his  eyes  until  the  footman  had  handed  him  a  basin  of 
water  and  a  towel.  This  ceremony  amused  us  exceed- 
ingly, and  we  were  permitted  to  look  on  for  a  short  time. 
When  we  had  curtsied  to  my  father,  we  had  our  break- 
fast, and  afterwards  went  to  Miss  Frumerie  to  read  and 
work  from  nine  till  one  o'clock. 

My  mother  had  laid  down  three  inviolable  principles  for 
the  education  of  her  children.  They  were  to  grow  up  in 
perfect  ignorance  of  every  thing  evil  in  the  world ;  they 
were  to  learn  (acquire  knowledge)  as  much  as  possible ; 
and  they  were  to  —  eat  as  little  as  possible.  The  first  of 
these  principles  was  founded  upon  my  mother's  conviction 
that  unacquaintance  with  all  evil  would  preserve  in  her 
children  an  innocent  mind,  and  accustom  them  to  an  at- 
mosphere of  purity,  which  would  beneficially  influence 
their  whole  development.  I  am  grateful  for  this  beautiful 
idea,  emanating  from  my  mother's  own  innate  innocence, 
and  I  believe  that  it  has  in  us  led  to  purity  of  thought  and 
mind;  although,  when  we  came  out  into  the  world,  we 
found  ourselves  painfully  deceived  in  all  our  imaginations, 
when  one  illusion  after  the  other  vanished.  In  order  to 
gain  the  desired  object,  we  were  never  permitted  to  re- 
main in  the  drawing-room  when  my  parents  had  any  vis- 
itors or  company,  —  at  the  utmost  perhaps  only  a  few 
minutes,  —  for  fear  that  our  innocent  ears  should  listen 
to  something  which  they  ought  not  to  hear ;  and  we  were 
strictly  forbidden  to  speak  to  the  servants,  except  to  old 
Lena,  who  again  was  forbidden  to  tell  us  any  thing. 

We  did  not  require  any  incitement  to  read  or  to  learn  ; 
it  was  our,  and  especially  Fredrika's,  greatest  pleasure. 
Within  a  couple  of  years  we  learnt  to  read  and  speak 
French,  and  we  learnt  to  repeat  by  heart  out  of  Madame 
de  Genlis's  plays,  "  L'lle  Heureuse,"  "  La  Rosiere,"  "  Les 


BIOGRAPHY.  5 

Flacons,"  and  others,  such  scenes  in  which  only  two  persons 
appeared  at  a  time ;  and  these  lessons  we  took  so  long,  that 
"  Bonne  Amie,"  as  we  called  Miss  Frumerie,  had  not 
patience  enough  to  listen  to  them  to  the  end.  Fredrika 
frequently  knew  a  whole  act  by  heart,  and  "  Bonne  Amie  " 
exclaimed  more  than  once,  "  That  Fredrika,  she  is  perfectly 
intolerable  with  her  recitations  ;  there  is  never  an  end  to 
them  ! " 

The  third  of  my  mother's  principles,  —  that  her  children 
should  eat  as  little  as  possible,  —  she  had  laid  down  partly 
under  the  conviction  that  if  children  are  allowed  to  eat 
much,  they  become  stupid  and  slow  to  learn  ;  and  partly 
from  a  detestation  of  strong,  stout,  and  tall  women.  My 
mother  read  vast  quantities  of  novels,  and  I  suspect  that 
the  hope  of  one  day  beholding  in  her  daughters  delicate, 
zephyr-like  heroines  of  romance,  was  constantly  haunting 
her  imagination.  This  principle  certainly  succeeded  in 
making  them  short  of  stature,  and  not  too  strong ;  but  with 
the  prescribed  diet  it  could  not  be  otherwise.  At  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  we  got  a  small  basin  —  I  have 
never  seen  such  small  basins  —  of  cold  milk,  and  with  it  a 
small  piece  of  "  knackebrb'd.1  If  we  were  ever  so  hungry, 
which  happened  every  day,  still  we  did  not  venture  to  ask 
for  any  thing  more  to  eat.  Once  or  twice  old  Lena,  when 
we  told  her  of  our  distress,  had  given  us  each  a  piece  of 
dry  bread ;  but  my  mother  having  heard  of  it,  Lena  got 
such  a  scolding  that  she  never  dared  to  try  that  experiment 
again. 

At  two  o'clock  the  dinner  was  always  served  in  my  par- 
ents' house,  and  that  was  indeed  a  glorious  time  for  us 
hungry  children.  We  were  then  allowed  to  eat  as  much  as 
was  considered  necessary.  Of  the  four  or  five  dishes 
which,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  day,  were  put  at 
once  upon  the  table,  we  had  permission  to  eat  of  three, 
and  they  tasted  wonderfully  good.  After  dinner  we  were 

1  A  kind  of  very  thin,  hard,  rye  biscuit. 


6  BIOGRAPHY. 

all  assembled  in  the  drawing-room  to  drink  coffee,  —  we 
children  of  course  only  as  spectators,  —  after  which,  at 
four  o'clock,  we  went  with  "  Bonne  Amie  "  into  her  room 
to  write,  cipher,  and  work.  My  father,  who  was  beyond 
description  orderly  and  punctual,  determined  that  every 
thing  should  be  done  by  the  clock,  looked  during  the  time 
repeatedly  at  his  watch,  and  until  it  pointed  at  four  exactly, 
nobody  was  allowed  to  leave  the  room,  when  he  went  to 
his  own  room  to  take  a  nap. 

At  six  precisely,  there  came  a  knock  at  "  Bonne  Amie's  " 
door,  the  footman  announced  that  tea  was  ready,  and 
we  then  marched,  "  Bonne  Amie,"  Fredrika,  and  myself, 
through  the  dining  to  the  drawing-room.  There  my  par- 
ents, "  Bonne  Amie,"  and  sometimes  those  who  came  to 
pay  a  visit,  drank  tea,  while  we  were  looking  on,  occasion- 
ally getting  a  rusk,  with  permission  to  go  to  the  nursery  to 
play,  —  for  now  the  lessons  were  over  for  the  day. 

At  nine,  my  parents,  "  Bonne  Amie,"  and  mostly  some 
guests,  were  seated  round  a  table  in  the  dining-room  cov- 
ered with  two  or  three  warm  dishes ;  but  we  children  had 
already  at  eight  o'clock  had  a  small  glass  of  cold  milk  and 
a  small  piece  of  knackebrb'd.  When  we  had  finished  our 
supper,  we  went  to  the  dining-room,  curtsied,  kissed  my 
father's  and  mother's  hand,  said  "  Good  night,"  and  pro- 
ceeded to  "  Bonne  Amie's "  room,  in  which  we  both  had 
our  beds  upon  a  corner  sofa.  Old  Lena  was  there  to  un- 
dress us,  and  always  used  to  hold  a  long  lecture  to  Fre- 
drika, who  preferred  running  about  the  room  and  dancing 
with  Lena  to  going  to  bed.  After  jumping  and  romping 
about  for  a  little  while,  she  usually  got  tired ;  but  Lena 
fared  far  worse  in  the  morning,  when  she  wanted  to  dress 
her.  The  old  nurse  had  then  to  run  about  to  get  hold 

D 

of  the  little  wild  girl,  who  always  bolted  from  her  when 
she  was  going  to  be  washed  and  dressed.  Sometimes 
Lena  was  so  angry  with  her  that  she  got  quite  red  in  the 
face,  and  then  she  burst  out  with  what  I  believe  was  her 


BIOGRAPHY.  7 

only  article  of  faith:  "Ah  !  that  will  be  a  nice  one  when 
she  gets  older ;  for  certain  it  is,  that  the  longer  people  live 
the  worse  they  become  ! " 

I  am  not  quite  sure,  but  I  believe  it  was  in  1806,  when 
my  maternal  grandmother  died.  She  lived  with  my  par- 
ents, suffered  a  great  deal  from  some  painful  internal  dis- 
ease, and  was  always  confined  to  her  bed.  She  was  inde- 
scribably kind  and  tender  to  Fredrika  and  me,  and  always 
wanted  to  have  us  beside  her  during  those  moments  when 
she  was  tolerably,  free  from  pain.  It  interested  her  much 
to  hear  what  we  had  learnt ;  and  if  we  read  nicely  to  her, 
we  knew  that,  one  after  another,  we  were  allowed  to  put  our 
hand  into  a  large  paper  bag  full  of  sweetmeats,  which  was 
lying  upon  the  bed  beside  her,  and  take  out  of  it  as  much 
as  we  could  grasp.  Otherwise  I  do  not  remember  much 
of  my  kind  old  grandmother ;  except  that  on  the  day  of 
her  funeral  we  cried  a  great  deal  and  eat  a  great  deal  of 
confectionery. 

At  midsummer,  1806,  the  whole  family  removed  out  to 
Arsta.  Like  all  children,  we  were  enchanted  at  being  al- 
lowed to  go  on  a  journey  —  such  a  long  journey  —  a 
whole  twenty  English  miles  !  And  during  the  preceding 
eight  days  we  were  busy,  every  leisure  moment,  packing 
and  unpacking  again  and  again  all  our  toys  and  dolls.  At 
last  came  the  happy  day,  and  in  three  large  carriages  the 
whole  family  proceeded  to  the  country.  I  remember  ex- 
ceedingly well,  that,  on  our  arrival,  both  Fredrika  and  I 
thought  that  the  large,  palace-like  edifice,  with  its  project- 
ing turrets,  its  uncommonly  high,  sloping  roof,  its  high  lat- 
tice windows,  with  small  glass  panes  set  in  lead,  and  its 
dark  walls,  from  which  in  many  places  the  plaster  had  fall- 
en off,  did  not  look  well  at  all.  If  we  had  understood  the 
meaning  of  the  word  awful,  we  should  certainly  have  thought 
of  it  on  beholding  the  then  dilapidated  old  Arsta,  built 
nearly  two  centuries  before  by  Mrs.  Barbro  Akes's  daughter, 


8  BIOGRAPHY. 

Natt-och-Dag,  while  her  husband,  Admiral  Bjelkenstjerna, 
was  out  in  the  German  Thirty  Years'  War.1 

When  we  had  alighted  from  the  carriage,  and  entered 
the  spacious,  vaulted  hall,  rising  through  three  storeys,  with 
its  high  stone  pillars  and  double  staircases,  we  were  de- 
lighted, and  asked  permission  to  run  up  and  down  them, 
which  was  willingly  granted,  as  being  the  best  means  of 
keeping  us  out  of  the  way  while  every  thing  was  taken  out 
of  the  carriages.  We  must  have  been  indulging  in  this 
pleasure  of  running  up  one  pair  of  stairs  and  down  another 
a  long  time,  for  I  remember  our  being  very  hot  and  very 
tired  when  we  were  called  in  to  eat  our  supper  and  go  to 
bed. 

Now  came  a  happy  time  for  us.  When  we  had  finished 
our  lessons  at  one  o'clock,  we  were  allowed  to  go  down 
into  the  large  garden,  and  to  take  long  walks  in  the  after- 
noon with  "  Bonne  Amie,"  after  she  had  had  her  tea.  We 
thought  it  wonderfully  delightful  to  run  out  and  play  about. 
In  town  we  had  scarcely  ever  permission  to  go  out. 
Happy  beyond  measure  were  we  to  hear  the  little  birds 
sing  ;  to  gather  flowers  and  fruit ;  but  as  happy  as  the 
curate's  children,  that  we  clearly  saw  we  should  never  be. 
One  day,  when  our  carriage-horses  had  to  be  exercised, 

1  Arsta  belonged  in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  to  the  German 
order  of  the  Knights  of  the  Sword.  It  was  afterwards  sold,  and  became 
in  the  year  1500  the  property  of  Axel  Laurson  Tott,  after  which  it  became 
an  heir-loom  in  the  Bjelkenstjerna  and  Fleming  families.  —  See  Ground- 
rent  Book  of  the  County  of  Upland,  1680,  and  Tham's  Description  of  the 
Province  of  Stockholm. 

In  July,  1621,  Gustavus  Adolphus  assembled  his  army  and  fleet  to  lead 
them  in  person  across  the  Baltic  to  Riga.  From  the  port  of  Elfsnabben, 
where  the  fleet  was  lying  at  anchor,  detained  by  contrary  winds,  Gustavus 
Adolphus  proclaimed  his  Articles  of  War,  drawn  up  by  himself,  and  writ- 
ten by  his  own  hand.  These  Articles  of  War  were  read  aloud  for  the  first 
time  by  the  Chancellor,  Axel  Oxenstjerna,  to  the  army,  consisting  of  20,000 
men,  drawn  up  in  battle  array  on  the  fields  of  Arsta.  The  whole  royal 
family  was  there  assembled  on  that  occasion.  —  See  Geyer's  History  of  the 
Swedes. 


BIOGRAPHY.  9 

"  Bonne  Amie  "  took  us  for  a  ride  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
curate's  wife. 

In  the  little  yard  before  the  red-painted  house  lay  a  hil- 
lock of  sand,  and  on  it  were  lying  four  children,  busy  with 
large  wooden  ladles  digging  out  walks  and  flower-beds. 
We  were  so  fortunate  as  to  be  allowed  to  join  in  their  play 
that  afternoon,  but  never  again. 

The  summer  passed  quickly  away.  We  read  and  studied 
industriously,  and  were  a  great  deal  out  in  the  open  air. 

On  Sundays,  the  Countess  F- and  her  daughter, 

then  sixteen  years  old,  were  almost  always  invited  to 

dine  with  us.  Countess  F ,  the  former  owner  of 

Arsta,  had,  when  she  sold  the  estate,  made  it  a  condition 
that  she  should  be  allowed  to  remain  there  over  the  sum- 
mer. She  occupied  one  part  of  the  lower  storey,  and  my 
parents  the  other.  The  whole  of  the  upper  storey  in  the 
old  house  was  unfurnished,  and  consisted  of  very  large 
rooms  with  thick  walls,  and  with  heavy  oak  timbers  across 
the  ceiling.  The  largest  of  these  rooms  was  forty-eight 
feet  square,  had  nine  high  windows,  and  a  gigantic  chim- 
ney, upon  the  upper  part  of  which  were  resting  two  mas- 
sive blocks  of  stone,  in  which  the  Bjelkenstjerna's  and  the 
Fleming's  arms  were  cut.  The  floor  was  inlaid  with 
squares  of  polished  oak.  This  room  had  in  former  times 
been  the  banqueting  hall,  and  the  heavy,  clumsy,  horse- 
shoe table,  which  took  up  two  entire  sides  of  the  room, 
was  still  remaining.  On  one  of  the  small  window-panes 
was  scratched,  — 

"  Lady  Sigrid  is  a  nincompoop, 
So  is  also  her  beloved  Soop." 

All  the  rooms  were  nineteen  feet  high;  every  step  awoke 
a  loud  echo ;  and  the  wind  was  incessantly  whistling 
through  the  small  window-panes,  loosely  set  in  their  leaden 
frames.  We  were  neither  allowed,  nor  dared  we  go  alone 
to  the  upper  storey ;  but,  whenever  we  could,  we  watched 
an  opportunity  for  visiting  the  kind  Countess  F and 


10  BIOGRAPHY. 

her  daughter,  who  were  always  so  very  friendly  to  us.  We 
had  then  to  pass  through  a  large  apartment,  the  walls  of 
which  were  covered  with  gilt  leather  in  sombre  figures,  and 
the  floor  was  inlaid  with  large,  square,  polished  stones. 
We  were  a  little  afraid  of  passing  through  this  room  ;  but 
we  used  to  run  as  fast  as  possible,  and  in  that  manner  al- 
ways got  through  it  without  any  adventure. 

In  a  large  apartment  in  that  part  of  the  flat  which  was 
occupied  by  my  parents,  were  seen  two  well-painted  por- 
traits of  the  former  owners  of  Arsta,  —  Mistress  Barbro 
Akes's  daughter  Natt-och-Dag  of  Goholm  and  Hedeso  —  a 
severe  and  sharp-looking  lady  ;  and  her  husband,  Admiral 
Bjelkenstjerna,  —  the  latter  cased  in  full  armor,  looking 
very  fierce.  From  this  apartment  we  had  a  view  of  a  long 
avenue  leading  down  to  a  creek  or  arm  of  the  Baltic, 
which  could  be  descried  only  when  the  water  happened  to 
be  very  high.  From  most  of  the  other  rooms  in  the  build- 
ing, which  stood  on  an  eminence,  the  eye  wandered  over 
meadows,  and  fields,  and  villages  belonging  to  the  estate, 
stretching  in  one  direction  over  nearly  five  English  miles. 
Two  churches  raised  their  old-fashioned,  high,  pointed 
spires  above  the  distant  forest.  They  were  the  Oster  and 
Wester  Hanninge  churches. 

Only  once  during  this  summer  my  parents  invited  their 
relatives  and  friends  from  town  to  a  so-called  "  hemkom- 
61,"  or  house-warming.  Dinner  was  served  in  the  banquet- 
ing-hall,  and  after  dinner  the  guests  drank  coffee  under 
the  high,  two  hundred  years'  old  maples,  which,  planted  in 
two  rows,  divided  the  court-yard  from  the  garden,  form- 
ing a  broad,  shady  walk. 

When  autumn  and  cold  weather  set  in  at  last,  my  par- 
ents moved  to  town,  and  during  several  succeeding  years 
we  lived  winter  after  winter,  each  week  like  the  last :  much 
reading,  little  eating,  and  rarely  permission  to  go  out. 
Another  difficulty  was  now  added  to  our  other  troubles. 
My  mother  considered  it  very  wholesome  that  we  should 


BIOGRAPHY.  11 

be  thinly  dressed,  with  bare  neck  and  arms.  We  shivered 
with  cold.  It  was  probably  cold  in  our  rooms,  which  were 
large,  and  at  that  time  double  windows  were  unknown.  I 
recollect  very  well  that  often,  for  days  together,  we  could 
not  look  out  of  the  window,  the  panes  being  covered  with 
ice. 

When  I  was  eight  and  Fredrika  seven  years  old,  we  had 
music  and  drawing  masters.  It  was  not  expected  in  those 
days,  as  it  is  now,  that  a  governess  should  possess  all  kinds 
of  talent.  Besides,  our  "  Bonne  Amie  "  would  not  have 
been  sufficient  for  us  all,  especially  as  she  had  now  to  teach 
the  younger  children,  Hedda  and  Claes,  and  three  little 
future  pupils  had  been  added  to  our  family  up  to  the  year 
1810,  so  that  she  had  a  whole  troop  in  perspective. 

The  good  little  Hedda  had  great  difficulty  in  learning ; 
but  Claes  could  already,  at  the  age  of  six,  read  both  Swed- 
ish and  French. 

From  seven  till  ten  years  of  age,  little  Fredrika  began 
to  manifest  strange  dispositions  and  inclinations.  Occa- 
sionally she  threw  into  the  fire  whatever  she  could  lay  her 
hands  upon  —  pocket-handkerchiefs,  the  younger  children's 
night-caps,  stockings,  and  the  like.  The  servants  com- 
plained to  my  mother,  and  Fredrika  was  interrogated. 
She  confessed  at  once ;  and  the  only  reason  she  could  give 
for  her  delinquency  was,  "  that  it  was  so  delightful  to  see 
the  flames."  In  spite  of  scoldings  and  prohibitions,  she 
frequently  repeated  this  pleasure.  If  a  knife  or  a  pair  of 
scissors  happened  to  be  lying  about,  they,  and  Fredrika 
too,  disappeared  immediately.  She  then  walked  about 
alone,  meditating ;  and  if  nobody  happened  to  be  present, 
she  cut  a  piece  out  of  a  window-curtain,  or  a  round  or 
square  hole  in  the  front  of  her  dress.  She  looked  very 
awkward  if  interrupted  in  her  proceedings.  One  day,  our 
parents  being  out,  she  fell  upon  the  idea  of  quietly  steal- 
ing into  the  drawing-room  and  double  locking  the  door. 
Old  Lena,  suspecting  that  some  mischief  was  on  foot  be- 


12  BIOGRAPHY. 

cause  Fredrika  had  disappeared,  looked  for  her  every- 
where, and  coining  to  the  drawing-room,  which  she  found 
locked,  she  knocked,  calling  to  Fredrika  to  open  the  door. 
"  Yes,  immediately,"  answered  Fredrika ;  but  it  took  some 
minutes  before  she  unlocked  the  door;  probably  she 
wanted  first  to  finish  her  work.  When  she  had  unlocked 
the  door,  Lena  went  round  the. room  to  see  what  Fredrika 
had  been  doing,  and  was  terrified  when  she  discovered  that 
she  had  cut  a  large  round  hole  in  the  middle  of  the  silk 
covering  of  one  of  the  large  arm-chairs,  and  had  poked  a 
piece  of  her  own  dress,  cut  out  of  the  front  breadth,  into 
the  hole. 

With  the  knife  she  experimented  upon  the  arms  and 
legs  of  her  dolls,  to  find  out  what  they  contained  ;  and  one 
poor  doll  had  to  lose  its  head.  She  wanted  to  find  out 
what  was  inside  of  it.  When  Fredrika  had  performed 
any  cutting  or  carving,  and  Lena  was  ordered  to  go  and 
find  it  out,  Fredrika  always  used  to  follow  her,  silently  and 
calmly,  as  if  she  had  done  no  wrong;  and  when  Lena  had 
found  out  what  she  had  cut  and  chopped  to  pieces,  and  be- 
gan to  moralize,  Fredrika  walked  up  to  Lena,  stared  at  her 
and  at  her  own  handiwork,  turned  round  and  walked  off 
without  saying  a  word.  If  the  discovery  took  too  long, 
Fredrika  lost  her  patience,  and  pointed  silently  in  the  di- 
rection in  which  Lena  ought  to  go. 

One  day  Fredrika  and  I  had  each  got  two  beautiful 
figures  of  French  porcelain  as  presents  from  one  of  my 
mother's  friends.  Before  evening,  Fredrika  had  tried 
whether  one  of  these  figures  would  break  if  thrown  upon 
the  stone  flags  lying  before  the  stove ;  the  brittleness  of 
the  other  was  tried  upon  a  load  of  fire-wood,  which  the  ser- 
vant was  carrying  into  a  room  to  make  a  fire.  Of  course, 
she  succeeded  in  smashing  them  both  ;  but  this  did  not  in 
the  least  trouble  her.  Another  day  she  came  to  my  mother 
tendering  a  penny,  the  only  one  she  had  left  in  her  little 
purse,  asking  at  the  same  time  her  forgiveness  for  having 


BIOGRAPHY.  13 

broken  a  decanter  and  three  glasses,  for  which  she  wished 
to  make  compensation  with  her  penny.  My  mother  could 
not  help  laughing.  Fredrika  got  a  slight  scolding,  and 
was  allowed  to  keep  her  penny. 

Fredrika  and  I  had  each  three  dolls,  with  very  hand- 
some wardrobes  for  them.  As  I  was  of  a  very  quiet  na- 
ture, and  very  orderly,  my  dolls  were  as  carefully  tended  as 
if  they  had  been  little  children,  and  I  felt  for  them  as  a 
real  mother.  They  were  undressed  every  evening  and  put 
to  bed,  and  were  dressed  again  regularly  every  morning. 
Fredrika's  dolls,  on  the  contrary,  were  often  much  neg- 
lected. They  remained  occasionally  dressed  for  a  fort- 
night together  ;  and  if  they  happened  to  be  once  undressed, 
they  usually  remained  undressed  for  an  equally  long  time, 
and  were  then  lying  about  in  their  chemises  in  the  corners 
of  the  nursery.  At  last  she  got  quite  tired  of  her  dolls, 
and  I,  who  used  to  pity  them  very  much,  undertook  to  at- 
tend to  them  ;  but  I  got  tired  of  this  after  some  time,  and 
complained  that  it  was  really  too  much  for  me  to  manage 
six  children.  Fredrika  then  made  an  agreement  with  little 
Hedda,  that  if  she  would  take  charge  of  her  dolls,  she 
should  have  a  piece  of  gingerbread  every  time  Fredrika 
got  any,  and  also,  now  and  then,  a  piece  of  confectionery  ; 
but  not  every  time  that  Fredrika  got  any,  because  she  was 
very  fond  of  it  herself.  Hedda  held  boldly  out  for  the 
confectionery,  and  the  matter  was  ultimately  arranged  to 
her  satisfaction  ;  but  Fredrika  undertook  to  dress  her  dolls 
elegantly  every  time  they  were  invited  to  a  ball. 

Every  Christmas  Eve,  our  parents  had  the  kindness  to 
give  us  as  much  pleasure  as  possible.  In  the  large  draw- 
ing-room a  Christmas  table  was  set  out,  literally  covered 
with  all  kinds  of  good  things.  Each  child  had  its  jul-hog, 
or  yule-heap,  of  saffron-bread,  buns,  and  wheaten  cakes, 
and,  besides,  plates  full  of  raisins,  almonds,  nuts,  and 
sweetmeats ;  and  before  every  heap  stood  a  three-branched 
wax  candle. 


14  BIOGRAPHY. 

A  great  number  of  Christmas-boxes,  wrapped  up  in  paper 
and  sealed,  were  thrown  into  the  room  by  a  masked  figure 
with  horns  on  its  head,  called  the  yule-buck.  We  children 
ran  a  race  after  the  various  parcels  dancing  about  on 
the  floor,  and  great  was  the  delight  when  she  whose  name 
was  written  on  the  parcel  happened  to  pick  it  up  herself. 
That  evening  was  not  like  any  other  evening  in  the  whole 
year,  and  I  never  saw  my  parents  so  happy  as  at  the  hap- 
piness which  they  gave  to  their  children.  We  on  our 
part  were  inexpressibly  delighted  and  grateful.  All  fear 
of  our  parents  was  gone ;  we  only  ran  about  thanking 
them  and  kissing  their  hands  for  every  new  present  we 
got.  Besides  many  useful  presents,  we  got  also  a  great 
number  of  toys,  which  afforded  us  great  delight  during  the 
whole  of  Christmas  time ;  but  Fredrika  soon  began  mak- 
ing her  experiments,  and  long  before  the  next  Christmas 
all  her  beautiful  playthings  were  gone. 

At  eight  years  of  age  Fredrika  wrote  her  first  verses  in 
French  to  the  moon.  She  has  unfortunately  burnt  them, 
and  I  remember  only  the  first  line  :  — 

"  0,  corps  celeste  de  la  Nature !  " 

A  couple  of  years  later,  she  composed  a  little  ballad, 
which  she  also  destroyed,  but  of  which  she  introduced  the 
first  verse  in  "  The  Home,"  where  she  describes  herself  in 
Petrea's  person,  letting  her  compose  the  same.  It  is  as 

follows :  — 

"  In  the  fine  palace  Elfvakolasti, 
Situated  in  some  part  of  Sverge, 
Once  resided  little  Melanie, 
Only  daughter  of  Count  Stjerneberge." 

About  this  time  she  intended  writing  a  poem,  the  title  of 
which,  written  in  large  letters,  was,  "  The  Creation  of  the 
World."  The  creation  of  the  world  began  with  — 

CHAOS. 

In  clouds  and  gloomy  darkness  ever  lying 
Was  all  the  world  before, 


BIOGRAPHY.  15 

And  ever  all  in  vain,  the  minutes  onward  flying, 

Expected  that  this  darkness  would  be  o'er. 

The  world  to-day  with  men  o'erflowing 

Was  then  a  thing  of  naught; 

And  all  our  lovely  starry  heavens  glowing, 

They  then  no  light  had  got; 

But  He  was  who  has  been  ever, 

Who  is,  and  ever  shall  be. 

"At  this  glimpse  of  light,  the  creation  of  the  world  was 
suspended,"  writes  Fredrika  in  "  The  Home " ;  "  prob- 
ably doomed  under  Petrea's  hand  never  to  emerge  out  of 
Chaos." 

Amongst  my  papers  and  letters  from  Fredrika  I  have 
found  an  old  slip  of  paper,  on  which,  in  her  childhood, 
she  had  written  a  couple  of  verses  to  Baron  Wrede  on  the 
occasion,  as  it  seems  from  their  contents,  of  some  little  fes- 
tival which  she  had  arranged  for  him  during  one  of  his 
visits  to  Arsta. 

This  occurred  probably  in  1811,  when  Fredrika  was  ten 
years  old,  because  my  aunt  is  not  mentioned.  She  died  in 
1810,  and  in  1811  Baron  Wrede  removed  from  Stockholm. 
At  the  top  of  the  verses  stands  — 

(AiR:  La  Biondina.) 

Flowers  we  here  present,  Your  Lordship! 
They  're  the  produce  of  Fredrikaberg. 
Flowers  we  here  present,  Your  Lordship ! 
They  have  blossomed  at  Fredrikaberg. 
There  we  've  fruits  and  flowers  ever, 
Winter,  summer,  failing  never. 
'T  is,  indeed,  a  splendid  place ! 
Berries  in  whole  hillocks  growing, 
Are  varied  by  flowery  ling. 
Sand  and  gravel,  mines  o'erflowing, 
Will  make  you  as  rich  as  a  king. 

(Repeat  the  second  refrain.) 

Under  lofty  fir-trees'  shadow 
Cows'  and  pigs'  food  can  be  had,  O ! 
Cows'  and  pigs'  food  can  be  had,  O ! 
Come,  O !  come  into  these  regions, 
Where  your  numerous  virtues'  prize, 


16  BIOGRAPHY. 

Wreaths  of  fir  in  countless  legions, 
Wait  you  in  your  Paradise. 

(Repeat  the  second  refrain.) 

Thus  we  greet  you,  Baron  Wrede ! 
Great  and  powerful  Lord  Manorial. 
Thus  we  greet  you,  Baron  Wrede ! 
Noble  baron,  this  our  present 
Can  boast  of  little  worth,  't  is  true. 
Give  us  yet  assurance  pleasant, 
That  for  our  sakes  't  is  dear  to  you. 

"  Fredrikaberg  "  was  a  stony  hillock  lying  on  the  verge 
of  fertile  meadows.  Fredrika  got  this  hillock  as  a  present 
from  my  father  on  her  birthday,  with  full  right  of  posses- 
sion. The  previous  year  a  similar  hillock  had  been  pre- 
sented to  me,  in  a  place  where  the  nature  of  the  soil  al- 
lowed of  laying  out  walks,  and  where  my  father  had  or- 
dered a  large,  round,  wooden  seat  to  be  constructed.  This 
hillock  was  inaugurated  on  my  birthday  by  an  invitation  to 
several  friends,  who  took  their  coffee  there  in  the  after- 
noon, after  which  my  father  made  a  speech  announcing 
that  this  "  Property  "  was  to  be  called  Charlotteberg,  and 
should  belong  to  his  eldest  daughter.  I  recollect  well, 
even  now,  my  delight.  We  had  some  presentiment  that 
Fredrika,  the  following  year,  would  also  get  such  a  hillock, 
to  be  presented  to  her  with  similar  solemnities. 

She  got  the  hillock ;  but  no  wooden  seat,  no  walks,  no 
inauguration  festival ;  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  the 
thought  arose  within  her  that  she  was  less  loved. 

Amongst  Fredrika's  papers  I  found,  in  a  very  small  old 
copy-book,  a  couple  of  verses  which  had  escaped  the  fate 
of  all  her  other  earlier  effusions,  that  were  to  be,  as  she 
used  to  call  it,  "  destroyed  as  contraband."  In  this  copy- 
book are  found  a  few  verses,  remarkable  only  for  being 
written  by  a  little  child,  which  one  can  see  that  she  must 
then  have  been,  from  the  great  difference  between  the 
characters  in  which  they  were  written  and  the  verses 
which  she  wrote  when  ten  years  old.  One  might  almost 


BIOGRAPHY.  17 

doubt  that  she  was  the  authoress  ;  but  at  all  events  they 
prove  that  woman's  dependent  and  subordinate  position  in 
life  had  already  made  a  deep  impression  on  her  childish 
mind.  They  are  as  follows,  without  either  a  comma  or  full 
stop :  — 

can  man  not  learn  the  art  of  saving 
could  not  our  stronger  sex  be  taught 
not  from  their  poor  wives  all  help  craving 
to  save  their  wages  as  they  ought 

to  give  up  cards  and  take  to  reading 
not  novels  —  no  —  but  books  more  meet 
and  from  mad  scenes  of  mirth  receding 
to  fly  from  art  to  nature  sweet 

It  does  really  seem  as  if  the  good  Fredrika  was  ready 
to  become,  even  as  a  child,  the  champion  of  her  sex. 
I  have  heard  it  said  that  Fredrika  was  not  an  agree- 
able child.  A  child  myself,  I  was  unable  to  judge.  Very 
kind  she  was  always ;  "  ready  to  give  away  indiscrim- 
inately the  presents  which  had  been  given  to  her,"  as  she 
says  of  Petrea  in  "  The  Home."  In  later  years  I  found 
that  her  eyes  were  very  handsome,  thoughtful,  and  ex- 
pressing goodness  and  vivacity ;  but  the  head  was  large 
in  proportion  to  the  small  and  slight  figure  ;  and  the  nose 
filled  up  a  large  place  in  her  physiognomy.  Her  nose 
would  probably  never  have  been  so  large  if  she  had  not, 
from  her  earliest  childhood,  been  displeased  with  its  form, 
and  therefore  had  determined  to  improve  it ;  but  all  her 
experiments  to  this  effect  resulted  in  making  her  nose 
swell  considerably,  become  larger  and  larger,  and  often 
very  red.  Fredrika  had,  when  a  child,  an  uncommonly 
low  forehead.  She  had  frequently  heard  my  mother  re- 
mark this,  and  she  undertook,  therefore,  one  day,  to  make 
it  high,  by  cutting  away  the  hair  at  the  roots  all  round  the 
forehead.  While  occupied  with  this  operation,  she  heard 
my  mother's  step,  and  was  as  terrified  as  if  she  had  com- 
mitted a  crime.  My  mother,  who  did  not  at  once  perceive 
2 


18  BIOGRAPHY. 

what  Fredrika  had  been  doing,  probably  thought  that  she 
looked  unusually  well,  and  said  to  her  later  in  the  day, 
"Your  forehead  is,  after  all,  not  so  very  low,"  and  Fre- 
drika was  enchanted  with  her  successful  handiwork.  But 
in  a  few  days  the  hair  began  to  grow  again,  sticking  out 
like  bristles.-  Great  was  then  her  distress  to  find  out  how 
this  was  to  be  prevented  in  future,  and  Fredrika  was 
obliged  to  walk  about  for  some  time  with  her  bristles,  until 
the  hairs  had  grown  so  long  that  they  could  be  seized  with 
a  pair  of  tweezers,  when  she  tore  them  out,  root  and  all. 
They  continued,  however,  to  grow;  but  Fredrika  perse- 
vered patiently  to  pull  them  out,  and  produced  ultimately 
in  this  way  a  fine  high  forehead,  which  became  her  much 
better  than  the  low  one  which  Nature  had  given  her. 

Fredrika  was  already,  as  a  child,  very  inquisitive  and 
eager  for  information.  She  wanted  to  know  every  thing ; 
was  very  restless,  and  put  all  kinds  of  questions,  especially 
on  certain  days,  which  I  used  to  call  her  "  inquiring  days." 
"  Bonne  Amie  "  got  tired,  and  told  her  to  be  quiet ;  and 
Lena  also  got  tired,  and  gave  her  no  other  answer  than 
"saucebox!"  'Fredrika  was  occasionally  excessively  wild 
and  frolicsome,  and  then  again  she  would  dissolve  in  tears, 
especially  if  she  had  been  scolded,  —  and  scoldings  she 
got,  indeed,  and  plenty  of  them,  particularly  during  our 
stay  in  the  country.  There  we  had  permission  to  go  out, 
and  in  our  rambles  Fredrika  always  managed  to  lose  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  gloves,  or  garters ;  or  she  tore  her 
dress,  or  came  home  too  late  for  dinner.  She  could  never 
learn  to  be  punctual,  and  in  this  my  father  was  very  strict ; 
although  she  had  an  unusually  good  memory  while  study- 
ing, yet  she  could  never  remember  what  was  told  her  in 
daily  life.  She  was  very  anxious  to  please  her  parents, 
and  it  grieved  her  deeply  that  she  could  not  remember 
what  they  told  her,  and  to  see  them  displeased  with  her. 
Her  childish  freaks  to  burn  her  things,  cut  her  clothes  to 

O     ' 

pieces,  and  so  on,  brought  upon  her  many  a  severe  scold- 


BIOGRAPHY.  19 

ing :  this  was  also  the  case  with  her  obstinacy.  It  was 
one  of  her  juvenile  faults,  as  also  to  give  saucy  and  pert 
answers,  which  always  irritated  my  father,  so  that  he  be- 
came excited  and  angry,  and  not  able  to  correct  the  delin- 
quent with  gentleness.  But  poor  Fredrika  got  indeed  so 
many  scoldings  for  mere  trifles,  that  her  mind  became  at 
times  embittered. 

My  mother  felt  annoyed  at  all  this,  and  Fredrika  always 
forgetting  the  reprimands  which  she  continually  got,  my 
mother  treated  her  rather  severely,  believing  that  this 
would  improve  matters,  and  that,  as  Fredrika  had  an  ex- 
cellent memory  for  learning,  she  ought  to  have  an  equally 
good  memory  in  every  thing  that  was  told  her.  Strange 
as  it  may  appear,  that  memory  can  be  as  it  were  twofold ; 
such  was  the  case  here,  and  Fredrika  could  not  help  it, 
that  every  thing  which  she  was  told  to  remember  was  for- 
gotten a  moment  afterwards. 

Notwithstanding  my  mother's  severity,  Fredrika  enter- 
tained for  some  time  a  really  passionate  love  for  her,  and 
tried  every  means  to  please  her.  My  mother  was  always 
very  elegant  in  her  deportment  and  toilet ;  she  had  ex- 
ceedingly agreeable  manners,  and  Fredrika's  admiring 
gaze  followed  her  every  movement. 

My  father  was  very  taciturn  and  reserved,  and  his  tem- 
per was  melancholy  and  gloomy.  During  the  disastrous 
war  which  was  raging  in  Finland  in  1808,  and  ended  in 
its  being  lost  to  Sweden,  he  was  more  gloomy  than  ever. 
In  the  evenings  he  was  in  the  habit  of  walking  incessantly 
—  sometimes  for  two  or  three  hours  together  —  up  and 
down  in  the  dark,  in  the  dining-room  in  town,  for  he 
would  not  have  the  candles  lighted  ;  and  we  often  imag- 
ined that  we  heard  him  weeping.  "  Bonne  Amie's  "  room 
was  next  to  the  dining-room,  and  as  long  as  my  father  was 
walking  there,  we  did  not  venture  to  go  through  it.  When 
tea  was  brought  in  at  six  o'clock,  he  broke  off  his  walk, 
but  he  resumed  it  as  soon  as  he  had  finished  tea. 


20  BIOGRAPHY. 

One  day  in  1809,  while  the  war  was  still  raging  in  Fin- 
land, a  note  was  brought  to  my  father  while  we  were  still 
at  dinner.  The  contents  seemed  to  surprise  hhn,  but  he 
said  nothing,  and  put  the  note  in  his  pocket.  Early  on  the 
following  morning  he  entered  "  Bonne  Amie's  "  room,  after 
we  had  gone  in  to  read,  and  asked  her  to  let  him  have  the 
two  elder  children  for  an  hour  or  two. 

"  Bonne  Amie  "  of  course  gave  her  consent  at  once,  but 
seemed  to  be  as  much  surprised  as  we  girls.  We  followed 
my  father,  and  when  we  had  got  into  his  private  room,  we 
heard  a  knock  at  the  door  of  the  outer  room.  All  this  ap- 
peared to  us  rather  awful,  and  we  did  not  know  what  to 
think-  of  it.  My  father  opened  the  door,  and  a  man-servant 
in  the  livery  of  a  Jagare-chasseur  entered,  saying  that  he 
had  brought  with  him  four  soldiers  of  the  guards,  carrying 
two  chests  which  he  had  orders  to  deliver  to  my  father, 
handing  him  at  the  same  time  a  sealed  packet,  with  com- 
pliments from  Count  L m,  who  would  call  upon  my 

father  about  dinner-time.  Two  large  iron-hooped  chests 
were  then  carried  in,  which  were  placed  in  my  father's 
outer  room.  When  the  Jagare  had  gone,  my  father 
double-locked  and  bolted,  first  the  outer  door  leading  to 
the  hall,  then  the  double  doors,  and  lastly  the  door  between 
his  two  rooms,  all  the  time  in  profound  silence  and  to  our 
great  amazement.  This  done,  my  father  broke  the  sealed 
packet,  took  out  of  it  two  large  keys,  and  applied  them  to 
the  chests,  which  he  unlocked  and  opened.  They  were  full 
of  small  linen  bags,  and  on  each  was  written  the  initials 
of  my  lather's  name,  C.  F.  B.  We  were  now  told  to  take 
out  the  bags  and  place  them  in  rows  upon  the  floor. 
These  small  bags  were  very  heavy.  When  they  had  all 
been  taken  out,  my  father  counted  them,  untying  the  string 
of  one  of  them.  We  then  saw  that  they  contained  large 
silver  coin.  My  father  then  opened  the  door  of  a  large 
closet  or  wardrobe,  telling  us  to  place  all  the  bags  in  it ; 
they  were  so  many  in  number  that,  when  piled  one  upon 


BIOGRAPHY.  21 

the  other,  they  formed  a  large  heap.  WTien  all  this  was 
done,  my  father  locked  the  door  to  the  wardrobe,  took  out 
the  key,  patted  us,  and  told  us  not  to  mention  what  we  had 
seen  to  any  body,  except  to  "  Bonne  Arnie;"  not  to  Lena, 
lest  the  little  children  should  hear  of  it.  We  promised 
this,  and  kept  our  word. 

Before  the  end  of  the  year  we  heard  it  said,  that,  during 

the  height  of  the  war,  Count  Gustavus  L m  had  put 

the  royal  seal  upon  these  chests,  and  had  brought  them 
over  with  him  to  Sweden,  and  that  they  contained  the  pur- 
chase money  for  a  foundry  and  an  estate  in  Finland,  which 
my  father  had  sold. 

This  or  the  following  year,  I  am  not  quite  sure  which 
my  father  bought  the  estate  of  Nynas,  in  the  parish  ol 
Osmo,  probably  with  the  contents  of  the  linen  bags  which 
we  had  taken  out  of  the  chests.  My  parents  took  up  their 
abode  at  Nynas  the  ensuing  summer.  The  situation  was 
exceedingly  beautiful ;  but  the  principal  dwelling-house, 
old  and  very  decayed,  contained  only  one  floor,  consisting 
of  low  rooms,  so  verv  different  to  those  which  we  had  been 

O      v 

accustomed  to  at  Arsta. 

One  thing  very  delightful  at  Nynas  was,  that  two  glass 
doors  opened  out  of  a  very  large  dining-room  to  the  gar- 
den, into  which  we  descended  by  two  low  steps.  At  the 
back  of  the  dwelling-house  was  a  spacious  court-yard, 
planted  all  round  with  high,  shady  lime-trees,  and  opposite 
it  was  a  beautiful  chapel,  in  which  divine  service  was  held 
every  Sunday.  An  arm  of  the  Baltic  came  up  close  to 
one  side  of  the  fine  court-yard,  and  we  had  there  a  splen- 
did view  of  the  wooded  shores,  and  in  the  background,  at 
some  distance,  was  an  island  covered  with  stately  oaks. 
Oh !  how  beautiful  it  was  there,  and  on  Sundays  how  sol- 
emn !  Then,  early  in  the  morning,  the  people  belonging 
to  the  estate  were  all  assembled  in  the  court-yard  clad  in 
their  holiday  dress ;  they  seated  themselves,  some  upon  a 
row  of  benches  placed  on  that  side  which  was  nearest  to 


22  BIOGRAPHY. 

the  water,  and  others  under  the  lime-trees  upon  the  grassy 
stone  terraces.  Waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  clergyman 
and  the  ringing  of  the  bells,  the  smartly  dressed  peasant 
women  sat  holding  in  their  hands  large  bouquets  of  "  south- 
ernwood." After  the  service,  the  clergyman  came  to  see 
my  parents.  It  was  a  custom  from  old  times  that  he 
should  dine  at  the  Manor-house. 

My  father  had  purchased  Nynas  of  Count  Mauritz  Arm- 
felt.  I  saw  this  favorite  of  Gustavus  III.,  famous  for  his 
personal  beauty,  his  wit,  and  his  political  intrigues,  when 
he  came  one  day  to  Nynas.  He  was  then  already  an 
elderly  man,  powerfully  built,  rather  stout,  but  with  an 
exceedingly  beautiful  head.  My  parents  endeavored  to 
persuade  him  to  remain,  at  any  rate,  to  dinner ;  but  he  de- 
clined their  invitation,  demanding  only  some  luncheon,  of 
which  he  would  not  partake  in  the  dining-room,  but  alone, 
in  his  own  former  private  apartment.  This  was  a  large 
room,  and  on  the  long  wall  hung  a  full-size  portrait  of  the 
late  King  Gustavus  Adolphus  IV. 

Immediately  after  luncheon,  Count  Armfelt  returned  to 
Stockholm.  There  was  something  so  strange  in  his  visit  to 
Nynas,  that  it  gave  rise  to  much  surprise  and  many  sur- 
mises. I  heard  subsequently  that  being  a  zealous  adherent 
of  the  deposed  king  and  his  family,  he  did  not  consider 
himself  quite  safe  in  his  native  country,  and  that  imme- 
diately after  his  return  to  the  capital  he  had  taken  up  his 
abode  in  the  hotel  of  the  Russian  ambassador,  Count 
Tuchtelen,  where  he  remained  until  he  went  over  to  Fin- 
land. 

Count  Armfelt  had  left  an  homme  d'affaires  at  Nynas, 
who  was  to  stay  there  over  the  summer,  in  order  to  settle 
all  the  accounts  relating  to  the  sale  of  the  estate. 

He  was  a  Frenchman,  an  old  Abbe,  by  name  Gredaine. 
The  good,  hoary-headed  Abbe  soon  became  charmed  with 
the  little,  witty,  lively  Fredrika,  and  said  to  her  one  day, 
"  Mademoiselle  Frederique,  je  vous  fais  mon  heritiere  uni- 


BIOGRAPHY.  23 

verselle."  The  Abbe  had  had  a  summer-house  fitted  up 
for  himself,  which  rested  upon  wheels,  so  that  it  could  be 
moved  wherever  he  wished ;  at  present  it  was  standing  in 
the  garden  in  the  shade  of  beautiful  trees,  and  he  now 
made  a  present  of  it  to  Fredrika.  She  jumped  and 
danced  about  with  delight,  patted  and  thanked  the  good 
Abbe,  and  was  almost  beside  herself  with  joy.  The  good 
old  man  was  quite  as  happy  at  seeing  her  happiness,  and 
from  that  moment,  whenever  he  met  Fredrika  he  always 
repeated  his  "  Mademoiselle  Frederique,  je  vous  fais  mon 
heritiere  universelle." 

The  Abbe  dined  frequently  with  my  parents,  and  on 
such  occasions  the  important  question,  relating  to  every 
thing  belonging  to  the  summer-house,  sofas,  chairs,  table, 
&c.,  &c.,  was  discussed  in  French,  and  when  Fredrika  was 
told  that  it  all  belonged  to  her,  there  was  a  fresh  outburst 
of  delight.  After  some  time,  and  when  the  novelty  had 
worn  off  a  little,  and  the  Abbe  was  one  day  again  dining 
with  us,  Fredrika  walked  up  to  him  asking  if  he  had  noth- 
ing else  to  give  her.  The  good  Abbe  pretended  to  be 
angry,  although  it  was  easy  to  see  that  it  was  difficult  for 
him  not  to  laugh,  and  exclaimed,  "  Comment  Mademoiselle 
Frederique,  vous  etes  une  ingrate !  je  vous  fais  cadeau  de 
la  plus  jolie  petite  maison  du  monde,  toute  meublee,  et  vous 
n'etes  pas  contente."  Peace  was,  however,  soon  restored, 
and  when  the  Abbe  added,  "  Attelez  quatre  chevaux  a 
votre  petite  maison,  Mademoiselle  Frederique,  et  vous 
pouvez  aller  au  bout  du  monde,"  Fredrika  took  this  quite 
seriously,  and  invited  me  to  be  her  travelling  companion. 

The  happiest  memories  of  my  childhood  I  carry  with  me 
from  Nynas.  I  do  not  know  whether  Fredrika  enjoyed  as 
much  as  I  the  beautiful  situation  of  this  estate  and  the 
charming  scenery  of  its  environs ;  but  I  remember  never 
having  felt  so  grateful  for  every  thing  good,  and  so  happy  as 
then.  So  much  singing  of  birds  I  have  never  listened  to 
as  there,  and  Fredrika  was  as  much  delighted  at  it  as  I, 


24  BIOGRAPHY. 

and  at  the  delicious  fragrance  which  the  stately  lime-trees 
diffused  while  they  were  in  blossom.  Grateful  still  for 
these  moments  of  enjoyment,  I  remember  even  now  many 
a  beautiful  Sunday  morning  —  on  the  other  days  of  the 
week  we  were  not  allowed  to  go  out  until  one  o'clock  — 
when  we  used  to  wander  through  the  park  down  to  the 
sea,  or  sit  under  the  old-fashioned  porch  facing  the  court- 
yard, looking  at  the  church  people  as  they  assembled. 

My  mother,  who  looked  upon  us  as  too  much  of  children 
to  be  able  to  understand  a  sermon,  would  not  allow  us 
to  go  to  church.  This  was  a  great  loss  both  to  Fredrika 
and  me,  because  we  were  then  really  seriously  disposed,  and 
wished  so  much  to  attend  the  service.  But  we  soon  fell 
upon  the  idea  of  seating  ourselves  upon  a  grass-sofa  behind 
a  hedge  of  lilacs. 

Shaded  by  beautiful  birch-trees,  this  sofa  stood  close  to 
the  chapel,  on  that  side  of  it  where  the  altar  was  placed. 
Seated  there,  we  could  hear  the  whole  service,  and  we  did 
not  leave  our  place  of  concealment  until  the  congregation 
had  left  the  church. 

Fredrika's  tenth  birthday,  the  17th  of  August,  was  cele- 
brated as  all  birthdays  in  our  family,  with  a  gouter,  or  lunch- 
eon, consisting  of  all  kinds  of  nice  things,  —  tea,  lemonade, 
tea-cakes,  sweetmeats,  fruits,  &c.,  &c.  During  the  preced- 
ing winter  I  had  conceived  a  bright  idea.  Fredrika  had  a 
real  passion  for  sweetmeats,  and  I  had  proposed  to  Hedda 
and  Claes  that  every  time  when,  in  the  course  of  the 
winter,  we  should  get  any  sweetmeats,  we  should  eat  only 
two  or  three  of  them  each,  and  keep  the  remainder,  in 
order  to  collect  a  large  quantity  for  Fredrika  on  her  birth- 
day. I  undertook  to  take  care  of  the  treasure. 

They  agreed  at  once  to  my  proposal,  but  when  it  came 
to  be  realized,  it  frequently  met  with  many  difficulties. 
The  little  children  wanted  to  eat  up  all  that  they  got,  and 
sometimes  they  seemed  determined  to  besiege  and  storm 
the  wooden  box  in  which  I  had  treasured  the  sweetmeats. 


BIOGRAPHY.  25 

They  were  not  quiet  until  I  had  given  them  each  one, 
for  all  my  remonstrances  and  beautiful  speeches  were  in 
vain.  At  last  came  the  17th  of  August,  and  I  took  Hedda 
and  Claes  with  me  when  I  was  going  to  put  the  sweet- 
meats upon  the  dining-room  table,  which  was  decorated 
with  flowers  and  leaves  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

To  my  great  astonishment,  I  found  that  the  contents  of 
the  wooden  box  filled  four  large  plates,  which  were  placed 
triumphantly  upon  the  table.  My  parents  were  very  much 
astonished,  for  nobody  but  "  Bonne  Amie  "  had  been  let 
into  the  grand  secret. 

They  caressed  and  praised  me  and  the  little  ones,  who 
now  made  up  for  lost  time.  My  mother's  brother,  who  had 
spent  a  few  days  at  Nynas,  entered  in  the  midst  of  the  re- 
joicings of  the  children. 

Fredrika  was  delighted  and  happy  on  account  of  all  the 
good  things,  and  my  uncle  asked  what  was  the  matter  ? 
When  the  secret  was  revealed  to  him,  he  exclaimed,  "  They 
must  be  delicious,  indeed,  after  being  warehoused  a  whole 
year  !  "  Then  the  truth  flashed  upon  my  mind,  and  I  un- 
derstood at  once  that  the  sweetmeats  must  be  too  old.  All 
the  almond  confectionery  was  as  hard  as  stone,  and  had  to 
be  pounded  in  a  mortar ;  but  then,  we  thought,  it  tasted 
deliciously. 

In  the  autumn,  it  was  very  damp  at  Nynas.  I  believe 
that  the  fine,  high  trees,  with  their  rich  foliage  surrounding 
the  old  wooden  mansion,  were  the  cause  of  this.  My  par- 
ents, therefore,  returned  to  Arsta  early  every  autumn,  I 
believe  in  September,  where  we  remained  a  couple  of 
months  before  we  went  into  winter-quarters  in  town. 

Extensive  repairs  and  improvements  in  the  whole  upper 
storey  in  the  mansion  at  Arsta  had  been  commenced  and 
were  carried  on  until  1814,  when  the  elegant  and  comfort- 
able suite  of  apartments  was  finished. 

We  were  very  sorry  to  leave  the  country,  for  there  we 
were  allowed  to  go  out.  My  parents,  when  in  town,  had 


26  BIOGRAPHY. 

always  two  pair  of  carriage-horses  in  their  stables  during 
the  winter.  My  mother's,  a  pair  of  stately,  beautiful  "  Isa- 
belles,"  were  used  by  her  alone  when  paying  visits,  or 
when,  with  one  of  her  friends,  she  took  a  drive  out  through 
"  Norrtull,"  —  in  those  days  the  favorite  drive  of  the  fashion- 
able world.  My  father  always  drove  his  fiery,  splendid 
black  horses  to  run  down  to  Arsta,  or  sometimes  when  he 
went  out  for  an  airing,  which  he  preferred  doing  in  the 
afternoon  at  dusk.  He  then  always  took  two  of  the  chil- 
dren with  him,  in  order  that  they  might  breathe  the  fresh 
air,  of  which,  however,  they  could  not  get  much  in  a  covered 
sledge  with  only  one  window  let  down.  We  did  not  par- 
ticularly enjoy  these  excursions.  Scarcely  a  word  was  then 
spoken,  and  we  always  went  my  father's  favorite  road,  — 
from  Regerings-gatan,"  where  we  then  lived,  past  St. 
John's  church-yard,  and  out  through  "  Roslags-tull." 

Between  the  age  of  nine  and  twelve,  Fredrika  and  I 
studied  the  English  and  German  languages;  made  great 
progress  in  history,  geography,  &c.,  &c.,  and  underwent  reg- 
ularly every  year  an  examination  before  my  father's  early 
friend,  the  Rector  of  St.  Clara's  Church,  afterwards  Bishop 
Franzen.  He  was  pleased  with  our  studies  in  general,  but 
astonished  at  the  progress  which  we  had  made  in  geog- 
raphy. This  we  owed  to  "  Bonne  Amie's  "  excellent  method 
of  teaching.  On  the  map  lying  before  us,  she  made  us  a 
present  of  empires  and  kingdoms  in  those  parts  of  the 
world  which  we  were  studying  for  the  time.  When,  for 
instance,  I  got  France  and  Fredrika  England,  we  were 
very  anxious  to  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with  all  the 
provinces,  towns,  and  rivers,  bays  and  boundaries  of  the 
country  which  we  were  governing,  and  this  afforded  us  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure.  But  Fredrika  always  knew  all  the 
produce  of  her  kingdom  much  better  than  its  boundaries ; 
the  latter  she  could  never  remember. 

Fredrika  had  an  innate  aversion  to  all  kinds  of  needle- 
work. She  turned  upside  down  or  inside  out  what  she  had 


BIOGRAPHY.  27 

to  sew,  constantly  lost  meshes  when  she  was  knitting,  and 
would  never  take  them  up.  When  she  dropped  any  meshes, 
she  did  not  say  a  word,  but,  quick  as  lightning,  she  threw 
the  stocking  under  her  chair  and  ran  out  of  the  room. 
"  Bonne  Amie "  used  to  be  very  much  amused  at  this 
manoeuvre.  We  knew  perfectly  well  what  was  the  matter, 
when  Fredrika,  silently  and  in  haste,  made  off,  and  the 
stocking  was  lying  under  her  chair. 

"  Bonnie  Amie  "  had  in  her  youth  learnt  to  make  very 
beautiful  things  in  pasteboard.  In  order  to  amuse  us,  she 
taught  us  in  the  long  autumn  evenings,  after  we  came  to 
town,  the  art  of  making  small  work-boxes,  baskets,  needle- 
cases,  &c.,  &c.,  which,  succeeding  more  or  less,  were  always 
admired  by  us ;  and  to  educate  us,  she  proposed  that  we 
should  sell  these  things,  and,  for  the  proceeds,  buy  stuff  for 
shirts  and  clothes  which  we  were  to  make  up  for  poor  chil- 
dren and  distribute  at  Christmas.  This  proposal  gave  us  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure ;  and  thus  "  Bonne  Amie  "  gained 
her  object,  — to  create  in  us  a  desire  to  assist  those  who 
were  in  want ;  to  gain,  by  working,  the  means  of  doing  so  ; 
or,  by  denying  ourselves  things  that  were  not  indispensably 
necessary,  to  apply  our  means  in  quarters  where  they  were 
better  wanted.  We  were  astonished  at  the  ready  sale 
which  our  work  met  with,  which  we  were  told  had  been 
sent  out  to  be  sold.  It  was  long  before  we  discovered  that 
my  mother  and  "  Bonne  Amie  "  had  bought  most  of  it. 

During  three  winters  Fredrika,  Hedda,  and  I  took  les- 
sons in  dancing,  which  delighted  us  very  much.  Fredrika 
was  so  weak  about  this  time,  that  when,  at  the  beginning 
of  every  lesson,  she  had  to  curtsey,  standing  behind  a 
chair  in  all  the  five  positions,  she  was  often  on  the  point  of 
falling  down ;  and  her  small  feet  were  so  soft  and  lissom 
that  our  teacher,  when  she  was  going  to  bend  them,  fancied 
they  were  broken  to  pieces. 

It  was  the  fashion  in  those  days  to  make  beautiful  pas 
and  entrechats  when  dancing  quadrilles,  as  the  modern  fran- 


28  BIOGRAPHY. 

false  was  then  called ;  and  young  ladies  learnt  to  dance  the 
gavotte,  the  shawl-dance,  and  a  kind  of  dance  with  a  tambour 
de  Basque,  from  which  this  dance  derived  its  name.  A 
first-rate  danseuse  from  the  opera  came  to  our  house  twice 
a  week,  accompanied  by  an  old  gentleman,  who  played  the 
violin  while  we  were  dancing,  in  order  to  teach  us  to  keep 
time.  This  old  gentleman  stood  in  need  of  much  patience, 
but  this  he  had  not.  He  became  angry  when,  during  every 
lesson,  he  had  to  play  the  same  reprise  over  and  over 
again ;  because  we  could  never  be  ready  with  our  steps 
when  he  began  playing.  He  beat  time  with  his  foot  louder 
and  louder,  then  he  grumbled  in  a  half-suppressed  voice  to 
the  tune  of  his  violin,  and  now  and  then  we  heard  him  ex- 
claim, as  if  to  himself,  "  Devil's  children  ! "  We  were  very 
much  offended  at  the  old  man's  impoliteness ;  we  dared  not 
complain  of  it  to  our  parents,  but  spoke,  as  usual,  to  "  Bonne 
Amie,"  who  gave  us  the  prudent  advice  to  do  our  best  to 
fall  into  time  at  once,  and  to  pretend  not  to  hear  what  the 
old  man  was  saying  when  he  lost  his  temper. 

I  believe  it  must  have  been  about  this  time,  or  when 
Fredrika  was  between  nine  and  ten  years  old,  that  my  par- 
ents, one  beautiful  day  in  spring,  made  an  excursion  with 
some  friends  to  Skuro,  a  royal  domain  famous  for  its 
beautiful  park.  Before  dinner,  which  was  ordered  at  the 
neighboring  hotel,  the  company  took  a  stroll  through  some 
part  of  the  extensive  park,  the  intention  being  to  take  a 
longer  walk  through  it  after  dinner ;  but  after  having 
sauntered  about  for  some  time,  Fredrika  was  missing.  We 
all  returned  at  once  to  search  for  her,  shouting  her  name 
in  all  directions,  but  in  vain  ;  Fredrika  was  not  to  be  seen. 
Unacquainted  with  the  large  extent  of  the  park,  we  did  not 
venture  to  separate,  for  fear  that  any  more  of  our  party 
might  be  lost.  It  was,  therefore,  determined  that  my 
mother  should  return,  with  the  greater  part  of  the  com- 
pany, to  the  hotel,  and  from  thence  send  out  people  to 
search  for  the  lost  one.  Only  my  father,  one  of  his  friends, 


BIOGRAPHY.  29 

and  myself  continued  to  look  for  her,  and  to  call  her  by 
name  in  another  direction,  along  a  path  which  we  had 
crossed  before,  but  which  she  perhaps  might  have  followed. 
We  soon  came  to  more  cross-roads,  and  having  wandered 
about  a  long  while,  shouting  her  name,  my  father  was  get- 
ting fatigued,  and  was  just  on  the  point  of  returning  to  the 
hotel,  when  suddenly,  at  the  turn  of  the  road,  we  saw  Fre- 
drika  walking  quietly  along.  As  soon  as  she  espied  my 
father,  she  ran  up  to  him,  exclaiming,  — 

"  Oh,  papa,  papa,  I  have  seen  Pan,  the  sylvan  god ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  asked  my  father. 

"Why,  he  stands  yonder,"  replied  Fredrika,  "playing 
his  flute.  I  asked  a  strange  gentleman,  whom  I  met,  to 
tell  me  who  it  was,  and  he  said  it  was  the  wood-god  Pan." 

But  Fredrika's  delight  at  her  new  acquaintance,  the  syl- 
van god,  was  of  very  short  duration  ;  for  now  followed  re- 
proaches and  scoldings  for  having  so  thoughtlessly  strayed 
away  from  the  company,  who  had  been  searching  for  her 
more  than  a  couple  of  hours.  We  returned  to  the  hotel ; 
the  elder  ladies  were  fatigued  and  not  inclined  for  any 
further  walk,  and  we  went  back  to  town  earlier  than  we 
intended  doing. 

In  the  spring  of  1813  we  returned  to  Arsta.  My  father 
had  sold  the  beautiful  Nynas,  to  my  great  sorrow  and  re- 
gret He  found  it  too  troublesome  to  attend  to  the  man- 
agement of  two  large  estates. 

Shortly  after  our  arrival  at  Arsta,  a  strange  gentleman 
called  upon  my  parents  with  an  unexpected  message.  The 
"  Sodermanland  Regiment "  had  been  ordered  to  embark 
on  board  a  transport  at  Dalaro,  to  proceed,  in  company 
with  several  other  regiments,  to  Germany,  and  this  gentle- 
man had  received  orders,  I  do  not  know  from  whom,  to 
request  that  the  officers  of  the  regiment  might  be  quartered 
at  Arsta.  My  father,  of  course,  willingly  gave  his  consent, 
and  in  the  following  week  there  was  a  great  deal  of  stir 
and  bustle  at  Arsta,  ordinarily  so  quiet.  No  less  than  ten 


30  BIOGRAPHY. 

officers,  and  amongst  them  the  commander,  General  R , 

were  quartered  at  the  mansion,  together  with  the  band,  and 
one  thousand  men  were  quartered  in  the  villages  and  farms 
belonging  to  the  estate. 

We  children  thought  this  exceedingly  delightful.  Every 
morning  and  evening  the  reveille  and  tattoo  were  sounded  in 
the  spacious  court-yard.  My  father  renewed  his  acquaint- 
ance with  an  early  friend,  Lieutenant-Colonel  H .  They 

had  studied  together  in  Gb'ttingen,  and  had  not  met  since. 
This  company  remained  more  than  three  weeks  at  Arsta. 
Payment  was  made  to  cottagers  and  peasants  for  the  com- 
mon men.  I  remember  well  that  there  was  also  a  question 
of  remunerating  my  father ;  but  this  he  would  not  listen 

to.  I  remember  also  General  R •  being  very-  much 

annoyed  at  not  receiving  orders  to  embark  his  men,  and 
that  he  went  two  or  three  times  to  Stockholm  to  inquire 
how  matters  stood  and  push  them  on ;  but  he  always  re- 
turned vexed,  apologizing  to  my  parents  for  all  the  trouble 
which  he  and  his  officers  involuntarily  gave  them. 

"When  all  these  guests  were  gone,  Arsta  relapsed  again 
into  its  usual  quiet  and  silence.  We  children  missed 
especially  the  military  band,  and  not  hearing  the  reveille 
and  tattoo,  and  after  that  the  solemn  "  chorum,"  the  sing- 
ing of  a  psalm  or  evening  hymn. 

Twice  a  week  a  messenger  was  sent  to  town  with  the 
produce  of  the  estate,  and  on  his  return  we  received  letters 
and  newspapers.  My  father  read  these  latter  aloud  after 
supper.  They  were  full  of  news  from  the  theatre  of  war. 
Most  of  the  European  nations  rose  to  grapple  with  the 
hitherto  invincible  Napoleon,  who  was  now  retreating  after 
his  defeat  and  enormous  losses  in  Russia.  Under  the 
command  of  the  Crown-Prince  of  Sweden,  Bernadotte,  in 
whom  the  nations  saw  one  of  their  liberators,  a  part  of  the 
Swedish  army  had  crossed  over  to  Germany. 

Then  new  ideas  and  feelings  were  awakened  in  Fre- 
drika.  She  wept  bitterly  for  not  having  been  born  a  man, 


BIOGRAPHY.  31 

so  that  she  could  have  joined  her  countrymen  to  fight 
against  the  general  disturber  of  peace  and  oppressor  of 
nations ;  she  wanted  to  fight  for  her  native  country ; 
longed  to  distinguish  herself  to  win  renown  and  glory. 
She  felt  that  she  would  not  be  wanting  in  courage,  if  she 
could  only  get  over  to  Germany.  There  she  would  dis- 
guise herself ;  perhaps  be  made  page  to  the  Crown-Prince. 
With  her  head  full  of  these  dreams,  and  how,  to  begin 
with,  she  was  to  get  to  Stockholm,  she  one  day  took  her 
little  shawl  upon  her  arm,  and  set  out  upon  the  high  road 
to  the  capital,  in  the  hope  that  some  chance  —  but  of  what 
kind  she  did  not  know  —  might  favor  her  design.  She  got 
no  farther  this  time  than  to  the  so-called  "  red  gate,"  a 
short  distance  from  Arsta.  Thence  she  returned  home, 
unhappy  that  she  had  failed  in  her  attempt,  and  revealed 
to  me  in  the  evening  all  her  plans.  I  prayed  her  by  all 
means  not  to  entertain  such  a  silly  idea,  representing  to 
her  that  she  could  do  nothing  as  a  warrior ;  and  I  spoke  of 
the  sorrow  which  she  would  cause  our  parents.  But  she 
was  not  at  all  convinced  that  she  could  not,  with  the  cour- 
age which  she  felt  herself  to  possess,  distinguish  herself  in 
war ;  and  once  again  in  the  summer  she  set  out,  trusting 
that  chance  this  time  would  be  more  favorable  to  her. 

She  continued  her  march  about  a  mile.  Here  she  re- 
mained standing  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  in  the  expectation 
of  seeing  some  family  with  whom  she  might  be  allowed  to 
go  to  town.  Disappointed  in  this  hope,  she  returned 
home.  "  No  carriage,  not  even  a  cat,"  had  she  seen  during 
her  walk.  A  long  time  did  these  warlike  notions  occupy 
her  mind,  but  at  last  they  gradually  died  away. 

In  the  large  dining-room  in  my  parents'  house  in  town, 
a  luncheon-table  was  always  spread  for  my  father  at  eleven 
o'clock.  It  stood  in  a  corner  near  the  door  opening  from 
"  Bonne  Amie's "  room.  Upon  this  table,  covered  with 
several  delicacies  on  small  dishes,  we  trespassed  on  several 
occasions.  We  suffered  afterwards  many  pangs  of  con- 


32  BIOGRAPHY. 

science ;  but  this  did  not  prevent  us  sinning  again  when 
the  temptation  offered.  Deeply  repentant,  as  if  we  had 
been  guilty  of  some  dark  crime,  we  hastened  always  to 
confess  our  sin  to  "  Bonne  Amie." 

On  Sundays  we  had  permission  to  run  about  and  play  in 
the  dining-room.  One  day  Fredrika  said  to  us,  "  Now  we 
shall  play  at  theatre."  We  placed  some  chairs  along  one 
side  of  the  room.  "  Now,  Charlotte,  Hedda,  and  Claes 
must  sit  upon  those  chairs  and  pretend  to  be  asleep,  and  I 
shall  run  across  the  stage."  We  did  so ;  but,  all  remain- 
ing silent  a  good  while  after  we  had  heard  Fredrika  run 
across  the  stage,  we  looked  up,  and  exclaimed  simultane- 
ously, "Ah,  Fredrika !  "  There  was  Fredrika  standing  at 
the  luncheon-table,  swallowing  as  fast  as  she  could  what 
my  father  had  left  on  the  sundry  dishes. 

Fredrika's  childish  desire  to  cut  things  to  pieces  in 
order  to  examine  and  experimentalize  upon  them,  had  by 
this  time  given  way  to  a  desire  to  try  practical  jokes  and 
harmless  tricks  ;  and  nobody  was  so  frequently  her  butt  as 

my  brother's  tutor,  the  good  Mr.  R .  "  Bonne  Amie  " 

and  Mr.  R used  often  to  play  at  chess,  and  fell  always 

to  disputing  during,  as  well  as  after,  the  game.  "  Bonne 
Amie  "  could  not  bear  to  have  Mr.  R— —  capture  the 
pieces  which  she  had  exposed,  and  Mr.  R remon- 
strated and  tried  to  prove  that  the  game  would  never  fin- 
ish unless  he  captured  all  the  pieces  which  "  Bonne  Amie" 
had  endangered ;  and  after  the  game  there  were  long  dis- 
cussions how  he  or  she  might  have  avoided  becoming 
checkmate.  Fredrika  availed  herself  of  these  opportu- 
nities to  play  her  tricks.  One  day,  while  Mr.  R was 

standing  demonstrating  before  "  Bonne  Amie,"  Fredrika 
took  a  heavy  leaden  pincushion,  belonging  to  my  mother, 

stole  behind  Mr.  R ,  and  dropped  it  quietly  into  one  of 

the  pockets  of  his  dress-coat  His  coat  was  drawn  all  on 

one  side,  and  Mr.  R looked  quite  woful,  but  did  not 

take  any  notice  of  it.  Fredrika  was  very  much  astonished, 


BIOGRAPHY.  33 

and  fancied  that  he  did  not  feel  the  weight  of  the  leaden 
cushion,  which  dragged  his  coat  all  on  one  side.  She  was 

strengthened  in  this  belief  when  Mr.  R ,  bowing  as 

usual,  said  "  Good  night ;  "  and  when,  the  following  morning 
at  breakfast,  he  did  not  mention  a  word  about  the  cushion, 
Fredrika  got  frightened,  and  imagined  that  there  must 

have  been  a  hole  in  Mr.  R 's  pocket,  and  that  he  had 

lost  my  mother's  pincushion  without  observing  it,  in  going 
up-stairs.  She  did  not  know  what  to  do  to  find  out  the 

matter,  and  at  last  went  up  to  Mr.  R ,  asking  him 

if  he  did  not  see  a  pincushion  somewhere  ?  "A  pin- 
cushion !  "  said  Mr.  R ,  with  great  difficulty  trying  to 

keep  from  laughing.  "  What  pincushion  ?  "  It  now  came 
to  an  explanation  between  him  and  Fredrika,  who  confessed 
what  she  had  done,  wondering  that  he  had  not  felt  the 
weight  of  the  heavy  pincushion  in  his  pocket,  saying  that 

there  surely  must  be  a  hole  in  it.  Mr.  R went  to 

fetch  the  cushion,  which  he  returned  to  Fredrika.  Many 
a  time  afterwards  have  we  been  amused  when  we  remem- 
bered this  trick  of  Fredrika's,  and  her  anxiety  about  the 
lost  cushion. 

Another  time,  amongst  the  many,  when  "  Bonne  Amie  " 

was  disputing  with  Mr.  R ,  after  having  finished  their 

game  at  chess,  Fredrika  broke  the  cotton  with  which  she 
was  knitting  a  stocking,  took  the  ball,  and  fastened  the  end 

of  the  string  with  a  pin  to  Mr.  R 's  coat.  When  he 

began  walking  about  the  room,  the  ball  was  rolling  after 
him  ;  but  Fredrika  could  not  understand  why  he  kept  con- 
stantly walking  in  a  circle,  and  always  round  her,  so  that 
he  entangled  her  feet  in  the  cotton.  It  was  a  good  while 

before  she  became  aware  that  Mr.  R had  observed 

her  trick,  and  wanted  to  punish  her  for  it  in  his  good-nat- 
ured and  jovial  way. 

"  Bonne  Amie  "  had  promised  us  that  at  the  age  of  fif- 
teen we  should  be  allowed  to  read  aloud  to  her  some  good 
novels  in  the  evenings,  after  we  had  finished  our  lessons  for 
3 


34  BIOGRAPHY. 

the  day.  In  order  that  we  both  might  share  this  great 
pleasure,  she  let  Fredrika  read  with  me,  although  one  year 
younger  than  myself;  and  Fredrika  was  beyond  measure 
happy,  when,  on  my  fifteenth  birthday,  we  began  "  Les 
Petits  Emigres,"  by  Madame  de  Genlis.  We  were  not 
permitted  to  read  more  than  half  an  hour  each  at  a  time, 
and  for  this  hour  we  longed  the  whole  day.  After  having 
gone  through  "  Les  Petits  Emigres,"  we  read  Miss  Bur- 
ney's  interesting  and  cleverly  written  novels,  "  Camilla," 
"  Evelina,"  and  "  Cecilia,"  abounding,  however,  as  I  after- 
wards discovered,  in  romantic  adventures. 

How  little  profitable  such  reading  is  for  young  girls, 
especially  at  our  age,  and  so  entirely  without  experience  as 
we  were  then,  soon  became  manifest  by  all  the  fancies  and 
imaginations  which  we  got  into  our  heads  about  ourselves 
and  what  might  happen  to  us.  We  only  longed  to  escape 
from  our  convent-like  seclusion  at  Arsta.  We  did  not  at 
all  doubt  that,  when  we  came  out  in  the  world,  we  should 
become  the  heroines  of  romance,  and,  like  the  heroines  in 
novels,  find  many  admirers,  and  meet  with  many  advent- 
ures of  which  we  had  not  even  dreamt  previously.  Who 
could  answer  for  it  that  even  now,  before  we  came  out  in 
the  world,  some  extraordinary  adventure  might  not  happen 
at  Arsta.  During  the  whole  autumn,  I  was  listening  every 
evening  in  the  dusk,  to  hear  a  ladder  raised  against  the 
wall  under  one  of  the  windows  of  my  room  ;  and,  although 
the  escape  down  the  high  ladder  might  be  a  break-neck 
affair,  yet  I  felt  a  kind  of  foreboding  that,  like  the  lovely 
Indiana  in  "  Camilla,"  I  should  be  carried  off,  I  did  not 
know  by  whom,  —  this  I  could  never  guess,  —  but  the  hero 
would  perhaps  afterwards  discover  and  declare  himself. 

Fredrika  had  also  forebodings  of  abductions :  either  she 
or  myself  was  to  be  the  object ;  but  neither  did  she  know 
by  whom  we  were  to  be  carried  off;  she  was  sure  that  it 
was  going  to  happen  in  broad  daylight,  on  a  Sunday,  on 
our  way  from  church,  to  which  we  drove,  as  usual,  accom- 


BIOGRAPHY.  .35 

panied  by  "  Bonne  Amie,"  to  attend  divine  service.  Fre 
drika  was,  therefore,  sitting  in  the  carriage,  looking  with 
eager  attention,  first  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  to  see 
whether  any  horsemen  would  be  rushing  out  of  the  forest, 
commanding  the  coachman  to  stop.  When,  therefore, 
Sunday  after  Sunday,  we  came  back  to  Arsta  with- 
out any  adventure,  Fredrika  found  herself  greatly  disap- 
pointed. 

After  having  been  locked  up  the  following  winter,  as 
usual,  in  Stockholm,  Fredrika  and  I  felt  a  greater  desire 
than  ever  to  walk  out  and  take  exercise  in  the  fresh  air ; 
but  how  this  was  to  be  managed  we  were  at  a  loss  to  un- 
derstand. We  discussed  the  matter  together,  and  it  was 
determined  that  we  should  ask  my  mother's  permission  to 
go  out  occasionally,  at  all  events  twice  a  week.  With  a 
palpitating  heart  I  preferred  my  request.  My  mother  an- 
swered that  she  did  not  like  it,  and  that  it  would  not  look 
well  for  young  girls  to  go  out  alone  in  the  streets  ;  that  if 
we  were  in  want  of  exercise,  we  might  stand  behind  a 
chair,  hold  on  to  the  back,  and  jump.  When  I  came  back 
to  Fredrika  with  this  answer,  she  was  in  despair,  but  what 
was  to  be  done  ?  I  proposed  that  we  should  begin  the 
jumping  that  same  evening,  after  we  had  said  "  Good- 
night" to  our  parents  and  come  into  our  room.  We  did 
so,  and  that  night  I  made  two  hundred  jumps  behind  my 
chair,  resting  now  and  then  for  a  moment ;  but  Fredrika 
had  not  performed  one  hundred  before  she  gave  in,  began 
to  cry,  went  to  bed  and  fell  asleep,  glad  in  sleep  to  forget 
every  thing.  I  continued  jumping  almost  every  evening, 
and  persuaded  Fredrika  now  and  then  to  try  the  same, 
fancying  that  it  did  me  a  great  deal  of  good,  which  it  also 
might  have  done  her,  being  deprived  as  she  was  of  other 
exercise,  but  I  could  seldom  induce  her  to  do  so.  In  one 
thing,  however,  we  agreed,  namely,  that  no  novel  writers 
ever  would  fall  upon  the  idea  of  letting  their  heroines  jump 
behind  chairs,  by  way  of  taking  exercise.  They  would,  no 


36  BIOGRAPHY. 

doubt  have  hit  upon  a  more  agreeable  manner  of  gaining 
their  object.  Meanwhile  I  found  myself  thriving  very  well 
under  this  regime  of  jumping,  and  continued  it  this  and 
the  following  winter.  It  had  the  same  effect  upon  me  as 
two  cups  of  elder  tea,  and  I  slept  excellently. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  I  was  preparing  for  Confirmation. 
Fredrika  was  not  considered  steady  enough  to  take  this 
step,  but  she  read  together  with  me  for  the  Rev.  T.  Colli- 
ander,  curate  of  Adolphus  Fredric's  church,  a  man  at  that 
time  highly  esteemed  as  a  clergyman  and  teacher.  He 
gave  us  religious  instruction  in  my  parents'  house.  The 
following  year  he  prepared  Fredrika  for  Confirmation,  and 
I  was  always  present  as  a  listener.  He  was  a  good,  sin- 
cere, honest  Christian,  and  was  often  moved  to  tears  while 
explaining  to  us  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement.  The  sum 
total  of  his  teaching  was  this :  that  one  ought  blindly  to 
believe  what  one  could  not  understand,  and  try  to  live 
according  to  Christ's  divine  doctrine. 

Fredrika  and  I  had,  when  children,  read  an  excellent 
book  called  "  Gumal  and  Lina,"  written  for  children  with  a 
view  of  imparting  to  them  the  first  ideas  of  religion,  by 
Caspar  Friederich  Lossius,  deacon  of  Erfurth,  and  trans- 
lated by  Broocman.  The  latter  died  soon  after  having 
finished  the  first  volume  of  this  work,  and  the  two  last  vol- 
umes had  not  been  translated  into  Swedish.  We  deter- 
mined to  translate  them,  and  we  did  so  during  the  time 
that  we  prepared  for  our  First  Communion.  Fredrika  took 
upon  herself  the  second  and  I  the  third  volume.  After 
two  years  this  work,  which  had  interested  us  in  the  highest 
degree,  was  finished,  and  the  following  Christmas  pre- 
sented by  us  to  our  father.  This  touched  him  so  deeply, 
that  he  embraced  us  both  with  tears,  and  the  following 
year  he  had  the  work  printed  and  published  at  his  own 
expense. 

I  had  "  come  out "  a  year  before  Fredrika,  and  I  was 
allowed  to  go  to  balls  and  suppers,  at  which  latter  there 


BIOGRAPHY.  37 

was  then  dancing,  which  afforded  me  a  great  deal  of  pleas- 
ure. Fredrika  made  her  entrance  into  the  world  the  fol- 
lowing year ;  but  she  found  less  pleasure  there  than  I  did  ; 
she  was  not  always  invited  to  dance,  and  therefore  soon  got 
tired  of  these  gayeties.  But  she  was,  on  the  other  hand, 
very  much  interested  in  the  many  good  plays  which  my 
parents  were  kind  enough  to  let  us  go  to  see.  All  this  was 
new  to  us,  for  we  had  not  been  to  the  theatre  until  we  had 
completed  our  sixteenth  year. 

In  the  winter  of  1817  a  young  gentleman,  born  and  set- 
tled in  France,  was  introduced  into  my  parents'  house.  On 
my  birthday  in  May  he  gave  me  a  charade  to  guess.  The 
significant  word,  full  of  mighty  moment,  had  a  double 
meaning.  The  following  morning  I  found  a  note  lying 
upon  my  bed.  I  opened  it  and  read  these  lines  :  — 

"  All  grandeur  renounce,  choose  virtue  and  worth, 

So  taught  the  wise  men  of  the  ages : 
Then  let  us  while  choosing  our  lot  on  this  earth 

Adopt  the  advice  of  the  sages. 
For  grandeur  resembles  the  foam  of  Champagne, 

It  flies  as  we  gaze  on  its  swelling: 
Blest  he  who  renounces  Chateaux  en  Espagne 

For  peace  in  a  northern  dwelling." 

These  verses  were  in  Fredrika's  handwriting,  but  signed 
"  J.  P.  Mallen,"  the  name  of  an  old  man  at  that  time  known 
in  Stockholm  as  a  writer  of  occasional  poems. 

After  our  Confirmation,  my  father  wished  Fredrika  and 
me  to  go  through  a  regular  training  in  household  duties, 
and  to  learn  the  art  of  cooking.  In  the  beginning  we  had 
each  our  week,  when,  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
housekeeper,  we  had  to  give  out  to  the  cook  every  thing 
that  was  required  for  the  various  meals,  and  to  see  that 
nothing  was  wanting  at  table.  Later  in  the  summer  a 
clever  superior  cook  was  engaged  from  Stockholm,  and  as 
we  were  to  learn  to  prepare  the  most  delicate  dishes,  we 
had  a  feast  every  day.  My  father,  who  was  very  fond  of 
the  luxuries  of  the  table,  thought  this  delightful ;  and  we, 

448058 


38  BIOGRAPHY. 

especially  myself,  found  it  very  pleasant  to  prepare  the 
choicest  viands.  Many  times  in  my  life  have  I  gratefully 
acknowledged  my  parents'  wise  idea,  to  let  us  learn  thor- 
oughly all  that  belongs  to  the  management  of  a  house 
and  household.  A  wife,  who  has  learned  all  this  in  her 
youth,  becomes  quite  independent  of  her  servants'  igno- 
rance and  will  have  every  thing  in  her  house  good,  but  less 
expensive  than  if  she  had  no  experience  in  these  matters. 
For  two  summers  the  Stockholm  cook  stayed  with  us  at 
Arsta,  a  couple  of  months  each  time. 

It  was  now  determined  in  family  council  that  we  should 
study  the  art  of  musical  composition  and  thorough-bass, 
and  that  I  should  learn  to  sing,  as  I  had  a  good  voice. 
The  Italian  language  being  necessary  in  singing,  we  had 
studied  it  several  years  under  the  guidance  of  an  Italian 
settled  in  Stockholm,  a  Signer  Cartoni,  who  had  at  last 
advanced  so  far  in  his  knowledge  of  languages,  that  he 
could  not  speak  any  language  correctly.  We  studied 
thorough-bass  under  a  very  eminent  musician,  Professor 
Strurve,  formerly  a  physician,  who  had  given  up  his  prac- 
tice in  order  to  occupy  himself  exclusively  with  music,  and 
now  we  were  to  try  our  skill  at  composition. 

Fredrika  wrote  a  theatrical  piece  in  one  act,  called  "  The 
Poet,"  and  I  composed  the  music  to  it.  When  my  teacher 
was  going  to  play  the  overture,  he  exclaimed,  "  What  a 
very  difficult  piece  !  it  is  really  such  a  muddle  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  play  it ! "  He  expressed  more  satisfaction  with 
my  music  to  a  couple  of  romances,  with  which  I  was  de- 
lighted myself.  This  masterpiece,  "  The  Poet,"  was  to  be 
performed  on  my  father's  birthday,  the  2d  of  April,  1818. 
Several  of  my  parents'  friends  and  acquaintances  were  in- 
vited by  my  mother  to  tea.  After  tea,  the  company  sat 
down  in  the  dining-room  upon  chairs  placed  in  rows ;  the 
doors  to  one  of  the  drawing-rooms,  which  had  been  fitted 
up  as  a  theatre,  were  thrown  open,  and  I  was  discovered 
sitting  at  the  piano  playing  my  exceedingly  difficult  over- 


BIOGRAPHY.  39 

ture.    I  broke  down  at  least  three  times,  and  long  before  I 
had  finished,  I  was  ready  to  burst  out  crying. 

Then  came  the  comedy,  which  has  since  unfortunately 
been  lost ;  but  the  first  verse  of  one  of  the  airs,  written 
between  the  leaves  of  the  music-book  which  I  have  still  in 
my  possession,  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  To  woman,  issuing  from  All-Father's  hand, 
The  fruits  of  glory  were  denied;  this  was  her  duty: 
The  soothing  balm  of  comfort  to  dispense,  to  stand 
By  grief  with  sympathy,  and  grace  life  by  her  beauty." 

My  father,  as  usual  at  these  little  entertainments,  was 
touched  and  delighted,  and  patted  and  thanked  us  chil- 
dren. He  was  very  fond  of  music,  and  since  Fredrika  and 
I  had  now,  for  our  age,  become  very  good  performers  on 
the  piano,  he  liked  us  to  play  to  him  every  day  some  of  his 
favorite  pieces.  This  we  always  did  with  pleasure.  But 
he  now  also  wished  to  let  other  people  hear  how  clever  his 
daughters  were,  and  this  did  them  no  good.  I  shone  with 
the  overture  to  "  The  Caliph  of  Bagdad  ; "  Fredrika,  with 
"  La  Bataille  de  Fleurus,"  and  we  both  strove  to  paint 
the  booming  of  the  cannon,  the  drums,  and  the  trumpet- 
clangor  in  "The  Battle  of  Prague,"  as  powerfully  as  pos- 
sible. My  father  enjoyed  the  praise  which  was  showered 
upon  us  ;  then  we  had  to  produce  our  landscape-drawings 
and  our  flowers  in  crayon.  This  had  no  good  influence 
upon  us,  least  of  all  upon  Fredrika,  whose  innate  desire  to 
be  praised,  to  win  renown  and  glory,  was  stimulated  to  such 
a  degree,  that  she  often  found  herself  really  unhappy  when 
she  thought  she  had  no  chance  of  distinguishing  herself. 
I  had  not  the  same  desire,  but  began  to  be  fond  of  admira- 
tion, and  to  entertain  a  high  opinion  of  myself,  partly  on 
account  of  the  praises  which  I  received,  partly  on  account 
of  the  greater  tenderness  which  my  father  always  had 
shown  me,  as  compared  with  the  other  children.  Fredrika 
had  an  instinctive  feeling  of  independence,  which  mani- 
fested itself  more  and  more  as  she  advanced  in  years. 


40  BIOGRAPHY. 

This  jarred  upon  my  father's  temper,  and  became  the  cause 
of  many  unhappy  moments  for  her. 

These  exhibitions  of  our  talents  were  always  held  in 
town,  for  nobody  was  ever  invited  out  to  Arsta. 

Although  Arsta  was  situated  at  a  distance  of  only  twenty 
English  miles  from  the  metropolis,  our  family  ted  there, 
nevertheless,  a  very  solitary  life,  totally  separated  from  the 
outer  world.  If  the  milk-carriers  had  not  brought  out 
news  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  neighboring  capital,  we 
might  have  imagined  that  we  were  distant  from  it  hundreds 
of  miles,  in  some  very  remote  province.  My  father  felt 
embarrassed  when  receiving  visitors  in  the  country,  and 
would  therefore  never  invite  any  body  to  see  us  while  we 
were  there.  The  Rector  and  Curate  of  the  parish,  with  their 
wives,  were  the  only  people  who  once  or  twice  were  invited 
to  dinner ;  my  father  seemed  then  to  have  performed  an 
arduous  duty,  and  these  people  were  the  only  ones  which 
we  saw  during  the  summer.  My  father,  who  in  his  youth 
had  studied  at  two  universities  in  Germany  and  afterwards 
had  travelled  a  great  deal  in  foreign  countries,  felt  occa- 
sionally the  want  of  change  and  diversion.  When,  there- 
fore, the  life  at  Arsta  became  too  monotonous,  he  went  to 
town  for  one  or  two  days ;  but  it  happened  frequently  that, 
on  his  arrival  there,  he  never  left  his  rooms,  and  returned 
to  Arsta  without  having  spoken  to  a  single  human  being. 

When  he  came  back  and  had  saluted  us,  he  always  asked 
for  news ;  but  as  never  any  thing  happened  at  Arsta,  we 
had  no  news  to  tell.  One  day,  however,  we  were  more  for- 
tunate. It  was  late  in  the  autumn ;  a  number  of  bullocks 
had  been  let  out  to  be  watered  at  a  pond,  and  when  they 
had  approached  a  spot  in  the  "  English  Park,"  a  kind  of 
inclosure  near  the  mansion  where,  at  that  season,  the  gates 
were  taken  away,  every  bullock,  on  crossing  that  spot,  was 
seized  with  a  dancing  fit,  so  that  they  began  jumping, 
prancing,  and  kicking  their  hind  legs  in  the  air.  This  was 
something  very  strange,  something  wonderful,  a  real  evene- 


BIOGRAPHY.  41 

ment  at  Arsta.  My  father  returned  the  same  evening  from 
town.  I  must  at  this  time  have  been  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  old,  because  we  had  now  removed  into  the  upper 
storey,  and  I  had  got  my  mother's  distinct  permission  —  a 
permission  not  given  until  we  should  have  reached  that 
age  —  to  eat  as  much  as  we  liked  both  at  breakfast,  dinner, 
and  supper. 

We  had  just  finished  supper,  and  went  as  usual  into  my 
father's  library,  to  converse  until  the  clock  in  the  old  tower 
had  struck  ten.  I  do  not  remember  how  it  happened  that 
the  four  elder  children  did  not  follow  our  parents  into  the 
library,  but  only  I,  who,  when  my  father  was  seated  on 
the  sofa,  and,  as  usual,  asked  for  news,  related  to  him  the 
wonderful  occurrence  of  the  day.  My  father  listened  at- 
tentively to  my  recital,  wondering  what  could  have  been 
the  cause.  Then  in  came  one  of  the  other  children,  relat- 
ing the  same  story.  My  father  listened,  but  said  nothing. 
Then  came  a  third,  repeating  what  the  others  had  told ;  and 
when  at  last  Fredrika  made  her  appearance,  and  began 
with  "  Do  you  know,  papa,  that  the  bullocks  "  —  my  father 
interrupted  her,  saying,  "  Ah !  very  well ;  this  is  the  fourth 
time  I  have  heard  that  story,  and  now  there  must  be  an 
end  of  it."  A  general  silence  ensued,  and  no  one  had 
another  word  to  say  until  the  clock  struck  ten,  when  my 
father  said  "  Good  night,"  and  we  went  to  our  own  rooms. 

In  the  long,  dark  autumn  evenings  at  Arsta,  we  all  as- 
sembled in  the  "  yellow  drawing-room."  At  ten  minutes 
to  six  the  footman  entered  to  lay  the  cloth  for  tea,  and 
shortly  after  came  the  housekeeper,  who  was  to  make  and 
pour  out  tea.  Our  party  consisted  always  of  my  mother 
and  father,  our  governess  and  my  eldest  brother's  tutor, 
Fredrika,  Hedda,  and  myself.  When  they  all  had  had 
their  tea,  with  the  exception  of  us  three  sisters,  who  were 
mere  lookers-on,  the  housekeeper  —  fortunate  woman !  — 
disappeared,  and  we  sisters  remained  sitting,  with  our  work, 
at  a  table  in  one  corner  of  the  room  ;  my  mother  sat  down 


42  BIOGRAPHY. 

in  a  corner  of  a  sofa,  and  my  father  beside  a  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  reading  aloud  until  supper-time  at  nine 
o'clock.  My  father,  who  was  only  interested  in  classical 
literature,  chose  in  preference  historical  works,  which  were 
rather  tiresome  for  his  young  daughters  to  listen  to,  espe- 
cially as  they  were  written  in  German  and  in  English,  my 
father's  favorite  languages,  which  he  read  beautifully,  but 
which  we  did  not  then  understand  well  enough  to  follow 
when  he  was  reading  aloud. 

After  the  first  ten  minutes,  my  mother  fell  asleep,  and 
we  were  often  ready  to  follow  her  example.  Fredrika 
yawned  till  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  ;  and  if  my 
brother's  tutor,  the  good  Mr.  R ,  had  not  hit  upon  sev- 
eral tricks  to  keep  us  awake,  I  do  not  know  how  we  should 
have  fared.  But  sometimes  we  were  on  the  point  of  being 
found  out ;  for  instance,  when  we  were  seized  with  an  irre- 
sistible youthful  desire  to  laugh,  which  fortunately  my  father 
did  not  notice,  as  we  were  sitting  far  away  from  him.  Once, 

however,  while  we  were  nodding,  half  asleeep,  Mr.  R 

happened  to  strike  his  hand  so  loudly  upon  the  table  that  my 
father  looked  up  and  said,  "  What  was  that  ?  "  "  Jt  was  — 
it  was  "  —  answered  Fredrika,  quite  frightened,  "  the  table 
that  was  going  to  jump."  My  father  looked  displeased, 
but  said  nothing  more,  and  continued  after  a  time  his  read- 
ing. In  this  manner  we  labored  through  Schiller's  "  Thirty 
Years'  War,"  Gibbon's  "  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire,"  and  Robertson's  "  History  of  America,"  the  two 
last  in  English. 

After  supper  we  all  went  into  my  father's  library  to  con- 
verse until  ten  o'clock.  When  we  came  back  to  our  own 
room  Fredrika  often  sat  down  to  cry,  and,  dejected  as  we 
were  ourselves,  neither  Hedda  nor  I  could  offer  her  any 
consolation. 

The  monotonous,  joyless,  and  inactive  life  which  we  led 
was  felt  by  us  all,  but  especially  by  Fredrika.  One  year  was 
exactly  like  the  other.  We  had  certainly  occupation  ;  we 


BIOGRAPHY.  43 

read,  drew,  embroidered,  played  scales,  sonatas,  and  themas 
with  variations,  and  Fredrika  wrote  both  prose  and  verse, 
but  she  wept  often  and  said  that  nobody  understood  her. 
The  relation  between  my  father  and  Fredrika  had  cer- 
tainly become  much  better  than  formerly ;  and  when,  on 
his  or  my  mother's  birthday,  she  wrote  some  little  play, 
which  was  performed  by  us  children,  my  father  was  much 
amused  and  pleased  ;  and  when  it  was  my  mother's  birth- 
day that  was  to  be  celebrated,  he  copied  out  the  parts 
himself. 

The  monotonous  resemblance  of  one  year  to  the  other 
continued  until  1820,  when  Fredrika  and  our  youngest  sis- 
ter Agatha  were  ordered  by  our  doctor  to  drink  mineral 
waters.  Inexpressibly  happy  to  be  allowed  to  see  a  little 
of  the  world,  I  had  also  permission  to  be  of  the  party. 
We  went  with  my  mother  to  a  Swedish  spa,  but  so  late  in 
the  season  that  most  of  the  mineral-water  drinkers  had  al- 
ready left  on  our  arrival.  We  led  there  a  quiet,  agreeable 
life  during  three  weeks'  time.  The  country  around  was 
very  beautiful,  and  an  amiable  old  married  couple,  owners 
of  the  spa,  and  residing  on  their  estate  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, did  all  in  their  power  to  make  our  solitary  stay  there 
as  pleasant  and  agreeable  as  possible.  This  little  trip  did 
us  all  a  great  deal  of  good,  especially  Fredrika,  who  really 
stood  in  need  of  getting  away  from  home,  which  to  her  ap- 
peared more  dull  than  to  us. 

For  a  couple  of  years  it  had  been  my  father's  wish  to 
sell  Arsta,  and  to  settle  in  the  south  of  France.  During 
his  many  travels  in  foreign  parts,  he  had  not  seen  any 
country  which  pleased  him  more,  and  every  succeeding 
year  his  desire  to  live  in  a  milder  climate  became  stronger 
and  stronger.  As,  however,  he  could  not  obtain  the  price 
for  Arsta  which  he  had  asked  for  it,  it  was  determined  that 
the  whole  family  should  travel  a  year,  and  spend  a  winter 
in  Marseilles. 

In  the  beginning  of  August,  1821,  we  all  set  out  upon 


44  BTOGRAPHT. 

this  long  journey,  in  two  large  travelling  landaus,  each 
drawn  by  four  horses.  After  having,  on  our  way  to  Ystad, 
visited  some  relatives  at  their  estates,  we  sailed  from  Ystad 
to  Stralsund,  in  the  mail-packet.  Leaving  Stralsund,  we 
ploughed  our  way  through  the  sandy  deserts  of  Pomerania 
and  Liineburg,  occasionally  with  six  large  horses  harnessed 
to  each  carriage,  and  two  postilion  smoking-pipes  to  each 
set  of  horses.  It  was  nevertheless  with  great  difficulty  that 
we  could  get  along  the  bottomless  roads.  Not  until  we 
came  to  Hanover  could  we  proceed  along  good,  firm  chaus- 
sees.  In  Darmstadt,  Fredrika  became  ill.  She  had  al- 
ready, in  Frankfort  on  Main,  felt  unwell ;  but  it  being  in  the 
height  of  the  "  Messe,"  —  the  large  annual  fair,  —  and  the 
town  being  full  of  travellers,  and  consequently  very  noisy, 
my  parents  determined  to  push  on  to  Darmstadt,  and  re- 
main there  in  case  Fredrika  should  get  worse.  She  became 
seriously  ill.  The  most  skillful  doctor  in  the  town,  Baron 
"Wedekind,  physician  in  ordinary  to  the  Grand  Duke,  was 
called  in.  He  declared  that  Fredrika's  illness  was  a  bilious 
fever,  not  dangerous,  but  which  might  be  lingering.  We 
remained  for  three  weeks  quietly  in  this  pretty  little  town, 
with  its  well-built  houses  surrounded  by  their  gardens  and 
fine,  old,  shady  lime-trees.  The  good  old  Baron  Wedekind 
came  to  see  Fredrika  every  day  ;  and  when  at  last  she  got 
so  well  that  she  could  go  out  for  a  drive,  he  sent  her  his 
own  equipage  daily.  We  were  staying  at  an  excellent 
hotel,  "  Die  Traube,"  on  one  side  of  a  large  square,  and 
our  landlord  and  landlady  were  very  kind  and  attentive, 
and  did  all  they  could  to  insure  quiet  and  peace  to  the  in- 
valid foreigner.  Only  one  single  night  was  our  rest  dis- 
turbed. We  were  all  roused  out  of  our  sleep  by  the  most 
horrible  noises  and  shouts.  The  officers  of  the  garrison 
had  been  assembled  at  the  "  Traube  "  for  some  festival, 
and  they  finished  off  by  smashing  dishes,  plates,  glasses, 
and  bottles,  and  even  the  tables  at  which  they  had  had  their 
banquet.  Noble  exploits  for  the  defenders  of  their  country ! 


BIOGRAPHY.  45 

Time  passed  quietly  and  pleasantly  for  us  at  Darmstadt 
My  father  had  the  kindness  to  let  Hedda  and  me  frequently 
go  to  the  pretty  little  theatre,  where  the  famous  Madame 
Schrbder-Devrient  was  then  playing.  "We  read  many  good 
books,  sometimes  taken  at  a  circulating  library,  sometimes 
sent  by  Baron  Wedekind ;  we  took  long  walks  with  my 
father  in  the  beautiful  environs,  and  visited  occasionally 
the  painting-gallery,  where  we  admired  the  works  of  the 
great  masters.  But  it  grieved  us  very  much  to  see  Fre- 
drika  for  some  days  really  so  very  ill,  and  that  she  could 
not  participate  in  our  pleasure. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  my  father  had  been  in  an 
unusually  good  temper,  and  it  was  therefore  with  trembling 
that  we  looked  forward  to  the  day  when  our  journey  should 
be  continued.  Nothing  tries  so  much  the  temper  as  trav- 
elling, and  my  father,  who  could  stoically  and  submissively 
bear  serious  misfortunes,  could  less  than  many  others  bear 
trifling  annoyances,  —  such  as,  for  instance,  when  my  mother, 
the  six  children,  and  his  Swedish  servant  were  not  quite 
ready  to  start  at  the  appointed  hour.  There  was  then  a 
scene  as  if  some  great  calamity  had  happened ;  and,  al- 
though we  all  tried  to  be  punctual,  it  occurred  neverthe- 
less, frequently,  that,  amongst  so  many  as  we  were,  some 
one  got  into  the  carriage  a  minute  or  two  too  late.  This 
and  similar  trifles  became,  therefore,  a  serious  drawback  to 
the  pleasure  which  we  otherwise  might  have  derived  from 
a  journey  through  a  beautiful  country.  As  soon  as  Fre- 
drika  had  somewhat  regained  her  strength,  we  proceeded 
on  our  journey,  but  she  being  still  very  weak,  we  were  to 
make  only  very  short  stages  the  first  days,  and  to  begin 
with,  not  further  than  to  Heppenheim.  Before  we  arrived 
there,  we  saw,  in  passing  the  fine  park  of  the  castle  of 
Auerbach,  the  summer  residence  of  the  Grand  Duke,  a 
horseman  coming  at  full  gallop  towards  our  carriages.  It 
was  Baron  Wedekind,  who  had  promised  to  see  us  once 
more,  and  who,  in  order  to  escape  the  ducal  dinner  party 


46  BIOGRAPHY. 

i 
at  Auerbach,  had  made  the  Grand  Duke  believe  that  my 

father  had  written  to  him  to  say  that  Fredrika  was  worse. 
"  Go,  go,  by  all  means ! "  was  the  Grand  Duke's  answer,  and 
now  the  good  old  doctor  accompanied  us  to  Heppenheim, 
to  assure  himself  that  we  should  be  well  lodged  in  the 
hotel  which  he  had  recommended  to  us  there,  after  which, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  took  leave  of  us. 

Our  journey  now  lay  through  the  wealthy,  beautiful 
Baden  to  Basle,  and  thence  through  Switzerland  to  Ge- 
neva, where  the  news  reached  us  that  the  yellow  fever  had 
broken  out  in  Marseilles.  In  order  to  obtain  further  in- 
formation, my  father  determined  to  remain  for  some  time 
on  the  borders  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  at  all  events  until 
there  should  not  be  any  danger  of  infection  ;  but,  having 
received  positive  news  that  the  disease  was  gaining  ground, 
and  that  numbers  of  foreign  families  were  leaving  Mar- 
seilles, all  thoughts  of  spending  the  winter  there  had  to  be 
abandoned.  After  a  short  excursion  to  Lausanne  and 
Vevay,  and,  after  having  placed  my  eldest  brother  Claes  in 
a  boarding-school  with  a  professor  in  Geneva,  we  crossed 
the  Jura  Alps  to  Dijon,  going  thence  to  Paris,  where  we 
were  to  remain  over  the  winter. 

My  parents  having  engaged  comfortable  apartments  in 
the  "  Hotel  de  Bruxelles,"  Rue  Richelieu,  —  "  the  same 
suite,"  said  the  landlord,  as  "  votre  compatriote,  Monsieur 
de  Lagerbie  (Lagerbjelke),  Ministre  de  Suede,"  had  oc- 
cupied several  years,  —  we  sisters  had  the  benefit  of  ex- 
cellent teachers,  good  and  expensive,  in  music,  drawing, 
painting,  and  singing.  At  the  larger  theatres  we  had  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  and  hearing,  at  least  once  or  twice  a 
week,  the  famous  artists  which  appeared  there  at  that  time, 
namely.  Talma,  Mademoiselle  Duchesnoix,  Mademoiselle 
Mars,  Mademoiselle  Georges,  Madame  Pasta,  Madame 
Mainville,  Fodar,  and  others.  None  of  them  enchanted 
Fredrika  and  me  so  much  as  Mademoiselle  Mars,  and  at 
no  one's  great  fame  were  we  so  astonished  as  at  Talma's. 


BIOGRAPHY.  47 

We  both  agreed  in  thinking  that  in  his  tragic  parts  he 
was  devoid  of  truth,  and  that  on  the  contrary  he  exag- 
gerated ;  and  we  could  not  understand  why,  the  more  he 
made  his  raised  arms  tremble,  the  more  the  audience  ap- 
plauded. We  went  also  during  the  winter  to  some  grand 
balls  given  by  families  whose  acquaintance  my  parents  had 
made  through  my  father's  bankers.  Galleries,  museums, 
and  collections  of  works  of  art,  we  visited  often  ;  and  in  the 
spring  we  made  excursions  to  Versailles,  and  other  remark- 
able places  in  the  environs  of  Paris.  We  returned  to 
Sweden  in  the  month  of  June,  passing  through  the  Nether- 
lands and  Germany,  and  came  back  to  Stockholm  without 
meeting  with  any  adventures,  and  soon  after  we  were  once 
more  installed  at  our  old  Arsta. 

In  the  beginning  we  were  very  happy  to  be  at  home 
again,  and  to  enjoy  the  quiet  of  the  country;  but  when 
autumn  came,  our  life  resumed  its  former  course.  We  had 
now,  however,  much  to  speak  about,  and  many  reminis- 
cences from  our  travels  to  fall  back  upon,  during  our  even- 
ing conversations  in  the  library.  This  always  amused  and 
interested  my  father ;  but  Fredrika  sat  generally  silent,  and 
very  rarely  took  part  in  the  conversation.  To  her  these 
compulsory  conversations  and  our  inactive  life  were  a  real 
torture  ;  she  longed  to  get  into  the  world  ;  longed  for  some- 
thing to  labor  and  work  for  ;  longed  to  distinguish  herself 
in  any  way.  The  realization  of  these  longings  was  the  aim 
of  all  her  desires  and  endeavors,  but  how  it  was  to  be  ac- 
complished was  still  hidden  in  darkness.  She  had  pro- 
jected several  plans,  but  she  did  not  venture  to  propose 
them  either  to  my  father  or  my  mother ;  and  every  thing, 
therefore,  remained  as  it  was.  After  tea,  at  six  o'clock,  my 
father  read  now  Schiller's  "  Maid  of  Orleans,"  "  Don  Car- 
los," and  others,  and  Fredrika  seemed  to  derive  new  life. 
While  listening  to  these  masterpieces,  we  were  deeply  in- 
terested and  often  touched,  but  Fredrika  was  at  times,  as 
it  were,  dissolved  in  tears.  She,  however,  felt  herself 


48  BIOGRAPHY. 

happy  during  these  readings,  until  the  conversations  after 
supper  again  froze  her  feelings. 

As  in  many  ancient  country  mansions  in  Sweden,  there 
was  also  an  old  tradition  that  the  manor-house  of  Arsta 
was  haunted.  One  evening  while  our  family  was  assembled 
round  the  tea-table  in  the  yellow  drawing-room,  the  steward 
came  in  and  told  my  father  that  he  could  not  prevail  upon 
any  of  the  men  to  go  up  to  the  attic  to  fetch  down  some 
empty  bags  which  were  wanted  in  the  morning,  on  account 
of  their  fear  of  ghosts.  He  added,  that  he  knew  there 
stood  in  the  attic  a  wooden  chest,  in  which  were  lying  a 
cannon-ball  and  bloody  garments,  and  that  there  were 
hanging  two  swords,  of  which  one  was  two-edged,  and  with 
which  somebody  had  been  beheaded.  My  father  gave  the 
steward  orders  how  to  act;  but  we  soon  heard  that  he  had 
not  succeeded,  and  that  he  had  to  go  himself  up  to  the 
much-dreaded  attic  and  place  the  bags  outside  the  door,  so 
that  the  men  could  fetch  them  thence  in  the  morning,  when 
it  was  daylight.  It  was  believed  that  the  gory  clothes  lying 
in  the  chest  had  belonged  to  Admiral  Bjelkenstjerna,  and 
that  the  ball  was  the  identical  one  with  which  he  had  been 
wounded  during  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  Afterwards,  it  was 
ascertained  that  the  clothes  had  belonged  to  an  Admiral 
Claes  Fleming,  who  was  killed  during  the  war  with  Den- 
mark, in  the  reign  of  Queen  Christina,  on  board  his  ship 
in  the  Sound,  by  a  hostile  ball,  while  he  was  making  his 
morning  toilet,  and  this  ball,  it  was  said,  was  the  one  lying 
in  the  chest. 

On  the  broad,  two-edged  sword  was  engraved,  that  with  it 
John  Fleming  had  been  beheaded  at  the  command  of  Charles 
IX.  The  other  sword  was  without  any  inscription,  but  un- 
usually long.  The  old  chest  and  the  two  swords  were  on 
the  following  day  sent  to  the  Bjelkenstjerna  Mausoleum,  in 
the  church  of  Oster  Hanninge,  where  they  are  now  pre- 
served. 

After  our  return  from  our  long  journey,  my  parents  hired 


BIOGRAPHY.  49 

a  beautiful  suite  of  apartments  in  the  Blasseholm  Square, 
in  Stockholm,  to  which  we  moved  in  1822.  With  mutual 
pleasure  we  saw  our  near  and  dear  relatives  again  ;  but 
most  of  our  acquaintances  looked  upon  us  with  rather 
envious  eyes,  —  scrutinized  our  fashionable  and  elegant 
toilet,  and  thought  that  we  were  giving  ourselves  grand 
airs.  After  all,  perhaps,  they  were  not  far  wrong ;  we 
were  proud  of  our  talents,  and  considered  ourselves  rather 
distinguished.  In  those  days  it  was  a  rare  occurrence  that 
a  Swedish  lady  had  travelled  in  foreign  countries,  —  and 
we  had  been  travelling  so  far  and  seen  so  much  of  the 
world ! 

Fredrika,  who  did  not  like  dancing  as  much  I  did,  often 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  at  home  when  we  were  invited 
out  to  balls ;  therefore,  Hedda  went  instead.  Fredrika 
now  began  painting  portraits  in  miniature  under  Professor 

W ,  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  she  had  great  natural 

talent  for  catching  the  likeness,  but  always  beautified,  and 
with  wonderful  expression.  There  was  a  great  deal  of 
genius  in  her  manner  of  painting  portraits.  Under  the 
sense  of  the  heavy  atmosphere  in  our  home,  she  found  a 
great  comfort  in  her  painting,  and  therefore  spent  many 
hours  every  day  at  her  easel.  My  father  was  pleased  with 
Fredrika's  beautiful  works,  and  admired  them  exceedingly. 
Fredrika  had  not  much  of  a  voice,  but  she  sang  duets  with 
me,  and  the  charming  "  Nocturnes  "  of  Signer  Blangini,  my 
singing-master  in  Paris,  for  the  sake  of  amusing  my  father. 
His  temper  became  every  year  more  gloomy  and  irritable. 
His  return  to  Sweden  and  the  cold  climate  had  an  unfavor- 
able influence  upon  his  temper  and  his  health. 

In  the  summer  of  1824  my  mother  went  to  Paris  with 
my  sister  Agatha,  in  order  to  place  her  in  an  Orthopedic 
Institution.  She  had,  unfortunately,  of  late  become  very 
crooked,  and  in  those  days  there  was  no  remedy  in  Sweden 
for  this  disease.  Hedda  and  Claes  accompanied  them,  in 
order  to  assist  my  mother  on  the  journey.  After  a  fort- 
4 


50  BIOGRAPHY. 

night's  stay  in  Paris  they  returned  home,  having  left  Agatha 
at  the  above-mentioned  excellent  institution,  where,  before 
their  departure,  she  already  felt  herself  improving  under 
the  treatment.  Two  amiable  Parisian  ladies,  acquaintances 
of  my  parents,  Madame  Holterman  and  Madame  Pictet, 
promised  my  mother  to  take-  the  little,  lovable  Swede 
under  their  maternal  care ;  and  these  good,  excellent  ladies 
fulfilled  their  promise  faithfully  during  a  period  of  two 
years. 

My  father  went  one  day,  about  the  end  of  September, 
down  into  the  park  at  Arsta,  and  took  a  bath  in  the  bath- 
house built  there.  This  had  such  a  bad  effect  upon  his 
health  that  he  became  seriously  ill  the  following  day,  and 
he  felt  his  feet  becoming  almost  paralyzed.  Our  family 

physician,  the  eminent  Dr.  E m,  was  sent  for,  and  he 

declared  that  my  father  must  be  at  once  removed  to  town, 
in  order  to  have  proper  attendance.  The  following  day 
my  father  was  placed  in  a  close  carriage,  and  my  mother 
and  I  went  with  him  to  nurse  him.  My  sisters  and  brother 
came  to  town  a  fortnight  later ;  and  now  commenced  a 
time  of  sickness  and  severe  suffering  for  my  father,  which 
returned  every  winter,  but  which  he  bore  with  admirable 
patience  without  ever  once  complaining.  Only  the  expres- 
sion of  pain  in  his  face  betrayed  how  much  he  suffered. 
The  disease,  which  was  gout,  having  now  attacked  his 
body,  my  father  was  so  kind,  so  little  exacting,  so  satis- 
fied with  every  thing,  and  frequently  so  cheerful,  that  we 
felt  convinced  that  the  gout  had  formerly  been  in  his  tem- 
per, because  my  father  when  ill,  and  my  father  when  in 
health,  were  two  very  different  beings.  Probably,  also,  his 
more  cheerful  temper  was  owing  to  his  altered  diet. 

It  was  the  wish  of  my  mother,  and  of  us  all,  to  make  this 
time  of  severe  trial  as  pleasant  to  my  father  as  possible. 
When  his  sufferings  were  not  too  severe  we  read  aloud  to 
him  a  great  many  accounts  of  travels,  which  always  inter- 
ested him ;  and  whenever  the  gout  did  not  attack  his  hands, 


BIOGRAPHY.  51 

we  played  chess  with  him  all  through  the  long  winter  even- 
ings. My  father  was  passionately  fond  of  chess,  but  he  did 
not  like  to  lose  the  game  ;  whereas  he  laughed  at  us  when 
we  were  checkmate.  This  vexed  and  annoyed  Fredrika 
very  much,  who  disliked  exceedingly  that  my  father  should 
laugh  and  chuckle  while  capturing  those  of  her  pieces 
which  she  frequently  left  unguarded.  She  could,  on  such 
occasions,  rarely  restrain  her  tears.  This  displeased  my 
father,  who  sent  her  away,  and  I  had  to  come  and  finish 
the  game,  which,  in  most  cases,  stood  very  unfavorably  for 
her.  Sometimes  she  had  only  the  king  and  the  queen  left, 
and  these  I  had  to  move  about  until  I  became  checkmate. 
I  used  to  take  it  very  coolly,  and  was  glad,  although  aston- 
ished, that  my  father  could  find  any  pleasure  in  seeing  such 
a  wretched  end  to  the  game.  Hedda  did  not  know  how  to 
play  chess ;  it  was  therefore  Fredrika  and  I  who  each 
alternately  had  to  play  with  him.  Poor  Fredrika  went 
with  an  insurmountable  aversion  to  the  chess-table.  I  de- 
termined to  manage  so  that  I  won  one  or  two  games  every 
night,  in  order  that  my  father  should  not  consider  himself 
too  clever ;  but  by  some  wrong  moves  I  always  let  him  win 
the  last  game,  for  otherwise  he  lost  his  temper,  and  that 
he  should  be  in  a  good  temper  was,  after  all,  the  main  point. 
I  begged  of  Fredrika  to  think  of  this,  and  to  try  to  over- 
come her  aversion  ;  but  she  never  could  calmly  submit. 

Not  until  about  midsummer  did  my  father  so  far  recover 
from  his  illness  that  he  could  be  moved  out  to  Arsta,  and 
how  delightful  this  was  to  us  sisters  I  can  hardly  express. 
At  the  dear  old  Arsta  we  again  breathed  freely. 

During  the  summer,  no  less  than  five  daughters  of  peas- 
ants belonging  to  the  estate  applied  to  us  to  be  dressed  as 
brides,  and  to  be  married  at  Arsta,  in  the  autumn.  Almost 
every  autumn,  one  or  more  such  weddings  were  celebrated 
in  our  large  dining-room,  with  the  ceremonies  customary  in 
the  district.  There  was  something  so  old-fashioned,  so  pe- 
culiarly mediaeval  in  the  costume  of  the  brides,  and  in  the 


52  BIOGRAPHY. 

appearance  of  the  bridal-train,  that  they  are  well  deserv- 
ing of  a  more  detailed  description. 

On  the  evening  before  the  wedding-day,  the  bride  and 
her  two  bridemaids  came  to  the  manor-house  with  the 
"  forming,"  as  it  was  called.  The  bride  was  too  grand  to 
carry  any  thing  herself,  but  the  bridemaids  carried  each  a 
gigantic  round  pewter  dish  with  wheaten  bread,  biscuits, 
tarts,  pastry,  and  a  variety  of  cakes,  etc.,  etc. 

This  "  forming  "  was  intended  as  a  present  to  the  Lord 
and  Lady  of  the  manor,  but  it  was  always  given  to  the 
housekeeper,  who  distributed  it  amongst  the  servants. 
Then  the  housekeeper  and  my  mother's  waiting-maid  took 
charge  of  the  poor  bride,  who,  before  going  to  bed  for  the 
night,  had  to  submit  her  head  to  the  following  treatment, 
in  order  that  she  might  look  splendid  on  the  wedding-day, 
namely  :  her  hair  was  parted  across  the  head  from  ear  to 
ear;  the  hair  on  the  back  of  the  head  was  then  braided 
into  eighteen  narrow  plaits ;  the  hair  on  the  front  of  the 
head  was  cut  off  in  such  a  manner,  that  what  remained  of 
it  was  barely  long  enough  to  be  laid  in  curl-papers,  which 
were  afterwards  pinched  with  curling  tongs.  The  French 
proverb,  "  II  faut  souffrir  pour  etre  belle,"  was  verified  here  ; 
for  the  wretched  bride  was  always  sleepy,  and  sat  nodding, 
and  got  the  headache  from  this  troublesome  and  unusual 
process,  long  before  she  was  allowed  to  retire  to  her  bed. 
If  a  word  of  pity  was  spoken  to  her,  she  always  answered, 
"  Oh,  I  shall  get  used  to  it  by  and  by." 

Late  at  night  the  bride  went  to  bed,  and  the  following 
morning  she  had  to  be  up  early,  in  order  to  be  dressed  in 
her  bridal  costume  by  one  o'clock,  when  the  clergyman, 
after  the  close  of  the  morning  service,  was  to  come  to 
Arsta  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony.  After  having 
strengthened  her  nerves  with  some  wine  and  other  refresh- 
ments, the  toilet  commenced.  The  eighteen  plaits  were 
combed  out,  so  that  they  fell  in  curls,  like  a  cascade,  down 
her  back ;  the  curl-papers  were  removed,  and  the  whole  of 


BIOGRAPHY.  53 

the  front  hair  was  dressed  so  that  it  stood  straight  up  all 
round  the  forehead,  which  was  left  free.  This  head-dress 
was  then  powdered  and  adorned  with  all  kinds  of  tinsel, 
pieces  of  cut  and  colored  glass  set  in  brass,  —  so-called 
Falu  jewels,  —  gilt  leaves,  buds  of  flowers,  the  more  the 
better.  Behind  this  high  head-dress  was  laid  a  small 
cushion,  and  upon  it  was  fixed  the  bridal-crown,  made  of 
silver-gilt,  and  very  heavy,  which,  on  the  morning  of  the 
wedding-day,  had  solemnly  been  brought  to  Arsta  from 
the  church  by  the  bridegroom,  accompanied  by  two  of 
his  svenner,  or  bridegroom's  men.  On  one  side  of  the 
crown  were  then  fixed  three  long  ostrich-feathers,  standing 
straight  up,  one  of  which  was  white,  one  blue,  and  one  red. 
And  now  the  bride's  head  was  dressed  !  If  the  bride  was 
good-looking,  which  sometimes  happened  to  be  the  case, 
she  then  looked  very  grand  in  this  costume. 

Then  the  bridal  robe  was  put  on.  It  was  one  of  my 
mother's  cast-off  black  silk  dresses,  which  had  lost  its  orig- 
inal fraicheur,  and  had  now  been  renovated  and  trimmed 
all  round  the  bottom  with  a  broad  gold  band.  The  sleeves, 
which  in  two  divisions  reached  down  to  the  elbows,  were 
trimmed  with  very  smart  black  lace,  exactly  as  one  sees  it 
in  old  portraits.  A  berthe  or  cape  of  black  lace  was  fast- 
ened to  the  dress  round  the  neck,  and  a  large  bouquet  of 
natural  flowers  from  the  greenhouse  was  fastened  in  the 
front  of  the  bride's  dress.  Two  or  three  chains  were  hung 
round  her  neck,  and  a  gold  band  encircled  her  waist  by 
way  of  sash.  But  now  comes  the  drollest  part  of  the 
whole  costume.  To  this  sash  were  tied  all  the  bride- 
groom's presents,  consisting  of  a  black  silk  neckerchief; 
one  or  two  cotton  ditto  ;  a  white  handkerchief  for  the 
head,  embroidered  with  colored  cotton  thread ;  one  or  two 
pair  of  gloves,  etc.,  etc.  All  these  things  were  hanging 
straight  down  her  dress,  so  that  the  body  looked  like  an 
itinerant  clothes-shop ;  whereas  her  head  looked  as  if  it 
had  belonged  to  a  queen  of  the  Middle  Ages. 


54  BIOGRAPHY. 

The  Psalm-book,  which  was  also  one  of  the  bridegroom's 
presents,  was  held  in  her  left  hand,  together  with  a  white 
pocket-handkerchief  spread  out,  and  so  large  'that  it  looked 
like  a  towel. 

When  the  bride  and  the  bridemaids  at  last  were  ready, 
the  latter  dressed  in  white,  with  enormous  bouquets  of  ar- 
tificial flowers,  not  always  of  the  prettiest,  but  full  of  gold 
tinsel,  stuck  in  their  bosoms,  they  were  conducted  to  the 
upper  storey,  in  order  that  the  bride  might  admire  herself 
in  the  pier-glasses  in  the  large  drawing-room,  and  there 
she  wandered  about  a  good  while  from  one  glass  to  the 
other,  and  thought  that  she  was  "  cruelly  grand." 

There  was  a  popular  belief  in  our  parish  that  the  one,  of 
those  who  were  going  to  be  united  for  life,  who  first  should 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  other  before  the  ceremony, 
would  be  the  one  who  should  afterwards  obtain  the  sway 
in  the  house.  We  sisters  were  of  course  very  anxious 
that  the  bride  should  first  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  bride- 
groom ;  but  nobody  was  more  anxious  about  this  than 
Fredrika,  and  she  always  stood  on  the  lookout,  that  she 
might  call  the  bride  when  she  saw  the  bridegroom  with 
his  train  riding  up. 

This  train  of  bridegroom's  men,  all  on  horseback,  was 
most  amusing  to  look  at.  It  was  headed  by  two  musicians 
playing  the  violin,  who  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  the 
world  to  manage  their  horses,  which  seemed  to  be  the  case 
more  or  less  with  all  the  equestrians,  as  the  horses  dashed 
hither  and  thither  during  their  calvacade  up  to  the  court- 
yard. When  they  were  assembled  there,  and  the  riders 
had  got  off  their  steeds,  and  the  female  part  of  the  assem- 
blage had  alighted  from  their  vehicles,  and  they  all  had 
entered  the  large  hall,  the  bride,  who  a  short  time  before 
had  gone  down  into  the  housekeeper's  room  with  her 
bridemaids,  made  her  appearance,  giving  her  hand  to  her 
future  husband,  curtseying  to  him  at  the  same  time.  Two 
processions  were  then  formed  :  a  fiddler,  scraping  his  vio- 


BIOGRAPHY.  55 

lin,  preceded  the  male  procession,  which  was  headed  by 
the  bridegroom,  with  a  large  bouquet  of  artificial  flowers 
stuck  on  his  breast,  and  followed  by  his  groomsmen, 
all  with  smaller  bouquets,  and  by  a  number  of  other 
people ;  the  other  fiddler  led  the  female  procession, 
which  was  headed  by  the  bride  and  her  bridemaids. 
Each  procession  walked  up  a  separate  flight  of  stairs  to 
the  upper  storey,  to  the  accompaniment  of  music  ;  and  the 
fine  large  hall,  with  its  granite  columns  and  double  flight 
of  stairs,  all  crowded  with  people,  presented  a  grand  ap- 
pearance. The  crowd  then  entered  the  dining  -  room, 
where,  as  soon  as  the  clergyman  arrived,  my  parents  and 
we  children  made  our  entrance,  saluting  the  company. 

After  the  ceremony,  my  parents,  in  going  up  to  the 
newly  -  married  couple  to  congratulate  them,  gave  the 
signal  to  all  the  rest  to  do  the  same,  and  then  began  a 
bowing  and  scraping  and  curtseying  that  seemed  as  if  it 
would  never  come  to  an  end,  and  was  very  amusing  to  be- 
hold. Thereupon  my  parents  sent  round  wine,  cakes,  and 
Sweetmeats,  for  which  the  guests  returned  thanks  to  us  by 
innumerable  bows  and  curtseys. 

Finally,  the  whole  company  marched  off  and  went  to  the 
house  of  the  bride's  parents  to  eat,  drink,  and  dance.  The 
festivities  often  lasted  for  a  whole  week. 

One   of  the   brides  who   was   dressed   and   married  at 

o 

Arsta  this  autumn  had  a  complexion  dark  as  a  gypsy. 
While  dressed  in  her  bridal  costume,  and  looking  at  her- 
self in  the  pier-glass  in  the  drawing-room,  she  said :  "  I 
don't  know  what  can  be  the  reason  that  I  am  so  red  in  the 
face  !  Sure  I  am  that  I  have  done  every  thing  to  get 
white.  Every  time  I  was  washing  linen  at  home,  I 
scrubbed  myself  with  soap-lye,  and  then  laid  myself  down 
beside  the  linen  on  the  bleaching-ground  in  the  sunshine, 
and  I  have  done  it  many  times  besides  ;  but  it  has  been  of 
no  use."  I  do  not  remember  whether  any  of  us  had  the 
heart  to  tell  her  that  she  and  the  linen  could  not  be 


56  BIOGRAPHY. 

bleached  by  one  and  the  same  process ;  the  thing  was 
incurable  now. 

If  the  wedding  was  celebrated  on  the  large  islet,  Galon, 
belonging  to  Arsta,  then  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  each 
with  their  train,  arrived  in  boats  decorated  with  foliage ; 
and  when  the  procession  returned,  the  bride  sat  in  the  first 
boat,  with  her  parents  and  bridemaids  and  musicians, 
heading  a  long  line  of  boats  full  of  people  in  holiday 
dress.  On  a  fine  day  in  autumn,  such  a  procession,  with 
its  music  on  the  calm  waters,  was  very  imposing  and 
pleasant  to  behold. 

We  children  were  always  invited  to  these  weddings,  but 
were  never  allowed  to  go.  The  housekeeper  and  steward 
always  accompanied  the  bridal-train,  and  were,  together 
with  the  clergyman,  the  guests  of  honor  at  the  wedding 
dinner,  which  usually  lasted  three  or  four  hours,  after 
which  dancing  began,  which  I  believe  frequently  was  rather 
boisterous,  when  the  bridal-crown  was  to  be  danced  off,  as 
it  was  called,  and  when  there  was  a  fight  for  the  bride  be- 
tween the  married  and  the  unmarried  women,  which,  of 
course,  was  to  end  in  such  a  way  that  the  married  ones 
triumphantly  carried  her  off. 

Another  autumn  was  now  at  the  door.  Instead  of  read- 
ing aloud  after  tea,  my  father  proposed  that  we  should 
play  whist,  dummy,  or  chess,  on  alternate  evenings.  After 
we  had  continued  this  for  some  time,  Fredrika  became 
more  and  more  melancholy,  especially  on  those  evenings 
when  the  chess-board  was  brought  out ;  for,  when  Fredrika 
was  check-mate,  my  father  wanted  to  find  out  how  she 
could  have  avoided  it,  and  the  pieces  were  again  arranged 
as  they  stood  before  the  fatal  moves  were  made. 

The  same  was  done  in  my  case,  so  that  on  these  wretch- 
ed chess  evenings  it  often  happened  that  the  clock  in  the 
old  tower  struck  both  eleven  and  twelve  before  we  were 
allowed  to  go  to  bed.  The  gout  was  again  in  my  father's 
temper,  and  Fredrika  trembled  at  the  thought  of  the  win- 


BIOGRAPHY.  57 

ter.  One  day,  while  we  were  speaking  of  our  trials,  Fre- 
drika  said  that  she  could  not  stand  such  another  winter  as 
the  last,  and  that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  write  a 
letter  to  our  parents,  and  candidly  tell  them  that  she  could 
not  bear  the  life  which  we  led  at  home,  and  beg  of  them 
not  to  be  displeased  if  she  went  into  one  of  the  hospitals  in 
Stockholm  as  a  nurse.  She  would  tell  them  how  much 
she  suffered  from  not  being  able  to  do  any  good,  and  from 
leading  a  useless  and  unprofitable  life.  I  got  alarmed  at  ( 
this  determination  ;  begged  of  her  not  to  be  too  hasty  ;  to 
remember  what  a  dreadful  storm  she  would  raise  ;  that 
she  would  not  gain  her  point;  that  our  parents  would 
never  give  their  consent  to  her  proposal ;  and  that  her 
position,  after  such  a  refusal,  would  become  much  more 
painful  than  before.  Besides,  our  parents  would  look  upon 
her  conduct  as  ungrateful.  They  had  surely  no  idea  of 
how  painful  our  home  was  to  us ;  but,  as  they  had  given 
us  a  good,  careful  education,  regardless  of  expense,  I  was 
of  opinion  that  there  remained  nothing  else  for  us  to  do 
but  patiently  to  submit  to  what  could  not  be  avoided. 
Fredrika  promised  to  defer  writing  the  letter,  and  —  it 
never  was  written. 

Ever  since  our  stay  in  Paris,  where  Fredrika  had  seen 
those  excellent  "  Soeurs  de  Charite "  wander  about  early 
and  late  to  nurse  and  assist  the  indigent  sick,  she  had 
longed  for  such  an  occupation  in  the  world.  Such  an  in- 
stitution did  not  then  exist  in  Stockholm,  and  our  home 
was  so  shut  up  that  she  had  not  liberty  to  go  out  when  she 
liked.  She  therefore  saw  no  chance  of  coming  into  the 
much  coveted  activity  except  by  entering  a  hospital. 

Meanwhile  Fredrika  continued  devising  plans  for  the 
future,  partly  in  this  direction  and  partly  speculating  on 
coming  events,  which  might  afford  her  an  opportunity,  by 
some  great  sacrifice  on  her  part,  of  becoming  famous  and 
spoken  of.  We  had  in  the  country  each  our  own  room ; 
and  except  those  hours  of  the  day  when  we  took  our  walk, 


58  BIOGRAPHY. 

or  played  billiards  with  my  father,  we  had  liberty  to  oc- 
cupy ourselves  as  we  pleased.  All  this  time  Fredrika  was 
busy  writing  both  prose  and  verse,  which  she  often  read  to 
me.  This  was  to  her  a  pleasure  and  a  pastime,  and  helped 
her  to  forget  and  escape  many  heavy  hours. 

Little  did  she  suspect  then  that  she  was  laboring  to  ac- 
complish what  one  day  was  to  gain  for  her  the  desired 
renown. 

Many  of  the  beautiful  poems,  of  which  some  have  al- 
ready appeared  in  print,  and  others  will  be  found  in  the 
present  work,  were  composed  during  this  time,  and  bear 
the  stamp  thereof. 

This  desire,  this  thirst  after  fame,  had  in  later  years 
greatly  subsided.  Now  and  then,  however,  it  revived 
again  ;  but  in  a  journal,  in  which  Fredrika  occasionally 
noted  down  her  thoughts,  impressions,  and  inspirations, 
we  find  the  following  sensible  and  true  observations  :  — 

22d  November,  1822.  —  "Practice  is  the  nurse  of  vir- 
tue. Virtue  is  a  child  which  decays  and  dies  before  it 
reaches  maturity,  if  we  neglect  to  feed  it  every  day  and  to 
cultivate  its  strength.  If  we  rarely  find  an  opportunity  for 
great  deeds  and  sacrifices,  still  we  have  every  day  an  op- 
portunity of  practicing  patience,  submission,  self-  denial, 
and  many  simple  virtues,  which  often  are  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  practice  for  certain  minds,  because  these  virtues 
are  in  themselves  so  quiet  and  unobserved." 

24:th  November.  —  "  Why  burns  within  thee  the  desire  to 
become  famous  and  renowned  ?  When  thou  art  laid  low 
in  thy  cold  grave,  dost  thou  then  hear  thy  name  mentioned 
on  earth  ?  " 

27th  November.  —  "  Life  is  a  journey  !  Let  this  thought 
penetrate  thee :  that  all  the  daily  petty  annoyances  which 
meet  thee  on  thy  road  are  as  nothing  when  compared  with 
the  beautiful  goal  that  lies  before  thee." 

28th  November.  —  "  Father,  thy  will  be  done,  and  not 
mine  !  It  is  an  inexpressible  happiness  to  be  able  to  pray 


BIOGRAPHY.  59 

this  prayer  with  a  fervent  heart.  It  is  the  outpouring  of 
love  to  Eternal  Love.  Father,  O  my  Father  !  grant  that 
I  may  always  pray  to  thee  thus,  with  the  same  devout, 
blissful  feeling." 

How  characteristic  of  Fredrika's  rich,  loving  heart  and 
lively  soul  are  the  following  lines,  written  a  few  days  later 
in  the  same  journal ! 

"  Love,  and  thou  shalt  be  happy ;  love  all  mankind ; 
press  the  whole  world  to  thy  heart.  Some  one  will  meet 
thee  with  equal  love  ;  but  even  if  none  should  thank  thee, 
should  love  thee  in  return,  —  oh  !  still  I  must  love  man- 
kind, or  I  should  be  deeply  unhappy." 

"  What  a  strange  thing  is  often  the  heart  of  a  young 
girl!  All  thoughts,  feelings,  imaginations  are  linked  to- 
gether, are  blended  with  reality,  round  which  they  sport 
like  a  Will-o'-the-wisp.  She  suffers,  enjoys,  weeps,  smiles, 
hopes,  despairs  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  and  all  this 
with  her  thoughts  alone,  without  the  influence  of  outward 
circumstances.  Her  soul  resembles  a  magic  lantern.  The 
figures  gambol  past  in  pleasing  or  repulsive  forms,  rarely 
leaving  a  lasting  impression  behind.  And  yet  every  atom  of 
her  life  is  full  of  feeling ;  every  pulsation  is  a  joy  or  a  pain." 

4th  December.  —  "  Pray  often.  Accustom  thy  thoughts 
to  follow  thy  glance  up  to  the  bright  firmament.  It  will 
give  thee  a  cheerful  and  heavenly  mind." 

Wth  December. —  "  Eternity  !  Immortality  !  Celestial 
promises  1  Who  can  contemplate  you  without  shedding 
tears  of  joy ! " 

9th  February,  1823.  — "  To  have  suffered  pain  does  al- 
ways good  afterwards.  Early  discovery  of  my  twenty  years' 
experience ! " 

On  the  1st  of  March,  the  same  year,  Fredrika  wrote  in 
her  diary :  — 

"  How  stagnant,  like  a  muddy  pool,  is  time  to  youth  drag- 
ging on  a  dull  and  inactive  life." 

"  I  am  only  twenty-two,  and  yet  I  am  often  tired  of  the 


60  BIOGRAPHY. 

world,  and  wish  I  was  taken  from  it     But  then,  we  do  lead 
a  very  dull  life." 

18th  March.  —  "  Never  marry,  Fredrika  !  Be  firm ;  thou 
wilt  bitterly,  bitterly  repent  it  if  thou  allowest  the  weak- 
ness of  thy  heart  to  induce  thee  to  such  a  step.  Watch, 
pray,  struggle,  and  hope  ! " 

13th  April.  —  "  In  vain,  young,  enthusiastic  girl,  in  vain 
does  thy  fiery  heart  beat  for  all  that  is  great  and  noble  ;  in 
vain  thy  eye  looks  forth  into  a  world  where  every  thing  ap- 
pears to  thee  to  be  great  and  noble  ;  where  the  temples  of 
honor  and  virtue,  raised  amongst  rocky  heights  and  preci- 
pices, appear  to  thee  so  easy  of  access.  Poor  young  girl ! 
Soon,  very  soon,  shall  thy  bold  step  be  arrested  by  opinion 
and  the  etiquette  of  every-day  life  ;  soon  shall  thy  feelings 
be  damped,  thy  thoughts  be  lowered  to  trifles,  enthusiasm 
die  away  in  thy  soul,  thy  heart  become  debased ;  and  soon 
shalt  thou  find  every  thing  around  thee  as  weak  and 
wretched  as  thou  art  thyself." 

On  the  9th  of  July,  1823,  Fredrika  writes  : — 

"  How  is  it  that  almost  all  old  people  become  more  and 
more  egotistical  with  increase  of  years  ?  I  shall  do  all  I 
can  to  guard  against  this  despicable,  low  feeling.  I  will 
remain  unmarried,  in  order  not  to  attach  my  heart  exclu- 
sively to  those  whom  I  should  have  to  call  mine  ;  but  I 
shall,  for  the  sake  of  God  and  of  Eternal  Love,  love  all 
my  fellow-men  ;  help  and  comfort  all,  as  far  as  lies  in  my 
power,  which  ought  to  be  so  much  easier  when  no  domes- 
tic cares  weigh  upon  my  mind.  That  must  be  a  beautiful 
and  happy  life !  " 

In  the  summer  of  1826,  the  two  years  which  had  been 
fixed  for  my  sister  Agatha's  stay  at  the  Orthopedic  Institu- 
tion in  Paris  had  expired.  She  had  perfectly  recovered 
her  health,  and  her  deformity  had  been  considerably  re- 
duced, but  it  was  considered  necessary  that  she  should  con- 
tinue the  same  treatment  another  year  in  order  to  become 
perfectly  well.  This  could  be  done  in  two  ways  :  either  by 


BIOGRAPHY.  61 

letting  Agatha  remain  another  year  in  Paris,  or  by  pur- 
chasing an  orthopedic  bed,  with  the  necessary  machinery, 
and  bringing  the  same  over  to  Sweden,  so  that  Agatha 
might  here  continue  the  same  cure  as  long  as  it  was  expe- 
dient. She  had  in  several  letters  complained  of  home- 
sickness, and  it  was  therefore  determined  that  my  mother, 
myself,  and  my  brother  Claes  should  go  to  Paris  to  fetch 
her  home.  My  father,  who  never  looked  at  expense  when 
the  welfare  of  any  of  his  children  was  in  question,  gave  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  for  the  journey  and  purchase 
of  the  requisite  machinery. 

On  our  arrival  in  Paris  we  found  Agatha,  who,  two  years 
previously,  had  been  brought  thither  ill  in  health,  suffering, 
and  prematurely  old,  now  well,  happy,  youthful,  and  full  of 
life.  Such  a  blessed  effect  had  this  treatment  had  upon 
her.  A  little  elegant  French  woman  amongst  a  number 
of  merry  and  lively  companions,  her  friends  in  the  institu- 
tion, she  spoke  now  only  of  her  joy  at  returning  to  Sweden. 
My  joy  at  our  happy  meeting  was  in  some  degree  embit- 
tered by  the  thought  of  how  Agatha  would  thrive  at  home ; 
but  I  trusted  in  her  innate  happy  and  cheerful  temper  as 
long  as  she  remained  well. 

I  took  lessons  for  a  fortnight  of  one  of  the  brothers  Milly, 
superintendents  of  the  institution,  in  order  to  be  able  to 
continue  the  orthopedic  treatment,  and  at  the  expiration  of 
that  time  we  returned  to  Sweden. 

After  a  few  happy  days  spent  at  home  in  our  family 
circle,  without  restraint  or  machinery,  the  treatment  pre- 
scribed for  Agatha  was  again  commenced.  But  the  ortho- 
pedic bed  was  found  to  be  so  long  that  it  was  impossible  to 
find  a  suitable  place  for  it  in  our  rooms  in  town.  It  was 
therefore  decided  in  the  autumn,  when  our  family  moved 
to  town,  that  Agatha  should  remain  over  the  winter  at 
Arsta.  I  ought  also  to  have  remained  there  to  nurse 
Agatha,  according  to  the  method  which  I  had  studied  in 
Paris  ;  but  my  father  would  not  hear  it  mentioned  that  I 
should  not  go  to  town  with  him. 


62  BIOGRAPHY. 

Nobody  was  more  anxious  to  remain  in  the  country  than 
Fredrika,  partly  for  the  sake  of  tending  Agatha,  and  partly 
to  avoid  the  life  in  town,  so  painful  to  her.  But  this  had 
great  difficulties  —  was  almost  impossible.  Fredrika  did 
not  lack  good-will  to  attempt  even  the  impossible,  but  she 
wanted  physical  strength  for  some  of  the  gymnastic  move- 
ments, which  Agatha  had  to  exercise  several  times  every 
day,  and  attentiveness  to  observe  carefully  that  all  the  va- 
rious pieces  of  machinery  belonging  to  the  bed  came  in 
due  connection  with  each  other  when  the  patient  laid  down 
upon  it,  and  this  was  of  the  utmost  importance.  Nobody 
dared  to  believe  that  Fredrika  would  be  able  to  attend  to 
all  this,  and  our  parents  therefore  made  up  their  minds 
that  Hedda  should  remain  at  Arsta  with  Agatha,  and  that 
I  should  initiate  her  in  every  thing  that  I  had  learned  with 
regard  to  the  prescribed  treatment. 

Nothing,  of  course,  was  mentioned  to  Fredrika  about  any 
doubt  of  her  being  able  to  understand  how  to  attend  upon 
Agatha,  —  this  would  have  grieved  her  deeply,  —  but  only 
the  physical  strength,  required  for  the  daily  gymnastic 
movements,  was  put  in  question  ;  and  our  good  Hedda  was 
the  strongest  of  us  all. 

Fredrika  was  much  grieved  when  she  heard  what  had 
been  decided.  I  spoke  to  my  mother,  and  begged  of  her  to 
arrange  so  that  Fredrika  also  could  remain  at  Arsta  over 
the  winter.  I  spoke  also  to  my  father  about  it.  He  gave 
me  his  hand,  saying  with  emotion,  "  If  I  get  ill,  as  usual, 
you  alone  will  have  to  nurse  me."  I  spoke  of  my  strength, 
of  my  good  health,  and  of  Fredrika's  ardent  wish  to  be 
allowed  to  remain  over  the  winter  at  Arsta.  At  last  my 
father  gave  his  consent,  and,  full  of  joy,  I  hastened  to  bring 
Fredrika  this  good  news.  Permission  was  given  to  her 
and  Hedda  to  assist  each  other  in  nursing  Agatha. 

My  mother  had  the  kindness  to  arrange  with  an  old 
French  lady,  Madame  Laval,  who  had  been  lectrice  to 
the  Queen  Dowager  Sophia  Magdalena,  to  come  out  to 
Arsta  as  a  chaperone  for  my  sisters. 


BIOGRAPHY.  63 

We  moved  to  town.  Our  family,  formerly  so  numerous 
when  we  went  to  Stockholm  for  the  winter,  consisted  now 
of  only  my  father,  my  mother,  and  myself.  My  brothers 
were  absent.  Claes  was  staying  with  the  judge  of  a  dis- 
trict, in  order  to  become  in  time  a  judge  himself.  August 
was  a  student  at  the  University  of  Upsala. 

I  determined  courageously  to  go  through  this  winter 
alone,  pleased  that  my  sisters  were  happy  and  comfortable 
together  ;  but  my  strength  began  to  fail.  My  father  sick- 
ened already  early  in  the  autumn.  In  the  beginning,  I 
and  an  old  faithful  servant  watched  over  him  alternately 
every  other  night.  Afterwards  I  read  aloud  to  him  for 
days  together,  and  often  until  late  at  night ;  and  I  became 

at  last  so  weak  and  worn  that  Dr.  E had  to  tell  my 

parents  that  it  would  never  do  in  the  long  run  for  me  to 
be  shut  up  in  my  father's  sick-room,  but  that  one  of  my  sis- 
ters ought  to  come  to  town  to  assist  me  in  reading  aloud, 
and  "  mount  guard,"  as  he  expressed  himself. 

My  father,  who  had  not  noticed  any  change  in  me,  be- 
came alarmed,  and  wanted  me  to  go  out  to  Arsta  on  the 
following  day ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  prepare  my  sisters 
for  this  change,  and  I  remained,  therefore,  a  few  days 
longer  in  town. 

Fredrika  had  written  several  times,  both  to  my  mother 
and  to  me,  offering  to  come  to  town  to  assist  in  nursing  my 
father ;  but  when  we  asked  him  which  of  the  sisters  he 
wished  to  come,  he  answered,  most  decidedly,  "  Hedda." 

On  a  bright,  sunny  winter's  day,  toward  the  end  of  Jan- 
uary, I  was  seated  in  my  grandmother's  little  covered 
sledge,  on  my  way  to  Arsta,  calm,  but  very  depressed.  On 
my  arrival  in  the  afternoon  I  was  received  with  open  arms 
by  my  three  good  sisters,  who,  wrapped  up  in  furs,  met  me 
in  the  court-yard  to  bid  me  "  welcome."  We  went  up-stairs 
together,  and  entered  the  dining-room,  in  the  centre  of 
which  stood  a  richly  laden  coffee-table,  and  a  cheerful  fire 
was  burning  and  crackling  in  the  stove.  Excited  and  weak 


64  BIOGRAPHY. 

as  I  was  then,  I  could  do  nothing  but  cry  in  the  beginning ; 
but,  reproaching  myself  for  this  weakness,  and  fearing  that 
I  should  disturb  my  sisters'  innocent  happiness,  I  soon 
plucked  up  courage,  sat  down  with  them  at  the  cosy  coffee- 
table,  and  before  night  we  had  many  a  hearty  laugh  to- 
gether ;  I  forget  now  at  what  innocent  ideas,  words,  and 
remarks.  Only  one  little  incident  do  I  remember.  In  the 
numerous  accounts  of  travels  that  I  read  to  my  father  dur- 
ing the  winter,  when  I  occasionally  stumbled  upon  words 
or  sentences  which  were  not  exactly  fit  to  be  read  aloud,  I 
fell  upon  the  idea  of  saying,  "  Well,  here  comes  some  Latin." 
Often,  when  I  was  sitting  up  very  late  reading,  and  thought 
that  my  father  had  fallen  asleep,  I  stopped,  when  he  sud- 
denly looked  up  and  said,  "  Is  there  now  Latin  again  ? " 
He  never  found  out  what  kind  of  Latin  the  book  contained. 

0 

Our  good,  kind  Hedda  was  not  pleased  to  leave  Arsta, 
but  she  made  no  complaint;  she  was  glad  that  I  could 
have  some  rest ;  and  on  the  following  day  we  wrapped  her 
well  up  in  furs,  and  she  set  out  for  Stockholm. 

I  resumed  my  office  of  nurse  to  Agatha,  and  we  lived  a 
quiet,  cheerful,  and  cosy  life  at  old  Arsta.  Agatha,  with 
her  French  vivacity,  merry  as  a  little  bird,  singing  French 
songs  and  romances,  was  happy  to  feel  herself  well,  and 
lived  in  the  hope  of  perfect  recovery.  Fredrika,  de- 
lighted at  the  liberty  which  she  enjoyed  in  the  country, 
and  feeling  herself  independent  of  the  whole  world,  read 
and  wrote  a  great  deal,  and  wandered  about  alone  in  glen 
and  forest.  She  had  also  begun  to  practice  medicine ; 
made  up  drugs  of  her  own  composition,  and  made  several 
successful  cures.  She  had  a  peculiar  luck  in  prescribing 
medicines  which  there  was  reason  to  suspect  would  do  her 
patients  more  harm  than  good. 

An  old  peasant  woman,  living  some  four  or  five  English 
miles  from  Arsta,  came  one  day  and  begged  Fredrika  to 
give  her  some  remedy  for  her  eyes,  in  which  she  had  for 
some  time  felt  a  severe  pricking,  while  she  had  observed 


BIOGRAPHY.  65 

that  her  eye-sight  had  become  weaker  and  weaker.  Fre- 
drika  took  her  down  into  the  so-called  "  Dispensary,"  and 
gave  her  a  phial,  with  directions  to  put  every  day  two  or 
three  drops  of  the  contents  into  her  eyes.  A  couple  of 
hours  afterwards  another  patient  came  and  wanted  some 
drops  for  toothache ;  but  when  Fredrika  was  going  to  give 
her  some  tincture  of  cloves  for  the  teeth,  she  observed  that 
it  was  this  which  she  had  given  to  the  peasant  woman  for 
the  eyes.  Fredrika  became  alarmed  at  her  mistake,  and 
came  to  tell  me  of  it ;  I  wanted  her  to  send  a  message  at 
once  to  the  woman  with  orders  not  to  use  the  powerful 
tincture  which  had  been  given  to  her ;  but  Fredrika  said  it 
would  be  of  no  use,  because,  at  the  distance  where  the 
woman  lived,  our  messenger  could  not  possibly  reach  her 
until  after  she  had  used  the  tincture  twice,  and  if  any  harm 
came  of  it,  it  could  not  now  be  prevented.  I  was  aston- 
ished at  seeing  Fredrika,  always  so  anxious  to  render 
assistance  to  others,  take  her  mistake  and  the  possibility 
of  some  misfortune  arising  out  of  it  so  coolly ;  but  I  was 
still  more  astonished  when,  about  a  month  afterwards,  while 
I  was  again  staying  with  my  father  in  town,  I  received  a 
letter  from  Fredrika  informing  me  that  the  tooth  tincture 
had  perfectly  cured  the  diseased  eyes,  and  that  the  good 
peasant  woman  had  come  on  the  previous  day  to  Arsta  and 
asked  Fredrika  for  some  more  of  the  "  blessed  drops " 
which  had  done  her  eyes  so  much  good. 

I  had  scarcely  been  a  fortnight  at  Arsta,  when  my 
mother  wrote  to  me  to  say  that  my  father  wished  me  to 
return  to  town,  provided  I  had  had  sufficient  rest ;  and  the 
following  day,  when  Hedda  came  back  to  the  country,  I 
went  to  town.  At  midsummer  we  were  all  again  assem- 
bled at  Arsta. 

In  the  beginning  of  November,  1827,  my  cousin  and 
most  intimate  friend  became  a  widow,  after  only  two  years' 
wedlock,  with  the  hope  of  soon  becoming  a  mother.     Con- 
vinced that  I  was  willing  to  come  to  her  at  any  moment, 
5 


66  BIOGRAPHY. 

she  wrote  to  me,  asking  at  the  same  time,  in  a  touching 
letter  to  my  parents,  permission  for  me  to  spend  the  follow- 
ing winter  with  her. 

In  the  beginning  my  father  thought  this  impossible,  and 
that  I  could  not  be  spared  from  home ;  but  after  turning 
the  matter  over  in  his  mind  a  few  days,  being  very  fond 
of  his  niece,  —  she  being  a  daughter  of  the  sister  whom  he 
had  loved  so  much,  —  and  deeply  sympathizing  with  her 
grief  and  her  wish  to  have  a  friend  staying  with  her,  he 
gave  his  consent  at  last 

Preparations  were  at  once  made  for  my  departure.  It 
gave  me  great  pain  to  part  from  my  sisters,  especially 
Fredrika.  We  had  hitherto  faithfully  shared  joys  and  sor- 
rows together,  and  we  promised  to  write  frequently  to  each 
other.  We  kept  our  word,  and  the  mail  had  to  carry,  at 
least  once  a  week,  a  heavy  letter  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
These  letters  from  Fredrika,  or  extracts  from  them,  are 
now  laid  before  the  public,  together  with  the  verses  and 
beautiful  pieces  of  poetical  prose  writings  which  she  com- 
posed during  this  time,  and  sent  to  me. 

In  company  with  a  relation  and  friend,  General  H , 

I  went  about  the  middle  of  December  to  his  estate  in 
Smaland,  where,  a  few  days  before  Christmas,  I  had  the 
happiness  of  embracing  my  two  cousins,  —  his  wife  and  my 

sorrowing  friend,  the   Countess  W ,  who  had  arrived 

there  a  short  time  previously.  After  the  Christmas  holi- 
days, spent  in  quiet  and  sisterly  confidence,  we  both  set  out 
for  her  home  in  C a. 

Fully  determined  not  to  make  any  new  acquaintances, 
or  go  into  society,  I  wished  to  live  only  for  my  friend,  and 
endeavor  to  make  her  life  as  happy  and  as  comfortable  as 
possible.  We  tried  to  arrange  our  mode  of  living  in  the 
most  agreeable  way.  The  greater  part  of  the  day  one  of 
us  read  aloud  to  the  other  the  works  of  good  authors. 
Now  and  then,  gloomy  forebodings  cast  for  a  moment  their 
shadows  over  our  happiness ;  but  they  were  entirely  dis- 


BIOGRAPHY.  67 

pelled  when,  towards  the  close  of  February,  a  fine,  strong 
boy  was  born. 

Delighted  as  she  was  at  the  birth  of  her  child,  my  friend 
yet  suffered  deeply  at  the  thought  of  her  departed  hus- 
band, who  on  this  occasion,  to  which  he  had  looked  forward 
with  so  much  longing,  would  have  been  so  happy. 

After  a  lengthened  stay  of  about  two  years  with  my 
friend  at  her  beautiful  estates,  I hus  and  T 6,  I  re- 
turned home,  in  compliance  with  my  father's  wish,  in  the 
autumn  of  1829.  I  was  very  much  touched  at  his  evident 
delight  to  have  me  back  again,  and  I  was  happy  to  find 
Fredrika  more  calm  and  cheerful  than  formerly.  Only  a 
short  time  were  we  now  allowed  to  enjoy  undisturbed  our 
quiet,  sisterly  life  at  Arsta.  My  father  was  very  unexpect- 
edly visited  by  a  slight  attack  of  apoplexy,  and  hurried 
preparations  for  moving  to  town  were  therefore  made  at 
once. 

My  father  continued  to  suffer  more  or  less  during  the 
whole  of  the  winter,  and  he  bore  his  heavy  sufferings,  as 
usual,  with  wonderful  patience  and  fortitude. 

Fredrika,  Hedda,  and  I  watched  over  and  nursed  him, 
and  read  aloud  to  him  when  he  had  strength  enough  to 
listen  to  us,  while  my  mother,  as  much  as  lay  in  her  power, 
devoted  her  attentions  to  him. 

My  mother  had,  from  the  very  beginning  of  this  his  last 
illness,  taken  upon  herself  the  superintendence  of  the 
Arsta  property,  and  the  management  of  the  other  affairs 
of  the  family.  In  order  that  my  father,  whose  strength 
was  evidently  beginning  to  fail,  should  be  near  his  doctor, 
it  was  determined  that  we  should  not  go  to  Arsta  in  the 
ensuing  summer ;  instead  of  which  a  summer  residence  — 
Lilla  Ingemarshof,  near  Stockholm  —  was  taken,  to  which 
we  went  about  midsummer.  There  my  father  seemed  in 
some  measure  to  recover  strength,  and  he  enjoyed  inde- 
scribably much  the  pleasure  of  sitting  out  in  the  sunshine 
during  a  few  warm,  splendid  days  ;  but  he  soon  got  worse 


68  BIOGRAPHY. 

again,  and  on  the  23d  of  July  he  expired  tranquilly,  sur- 
rounded by  his  wife,  his  children,  and  a  near  relative,  dear 
to  us  all. 

Soon  after  this  we  went  out  to  Arsta,  whither  my  fa- 
ther's body  was  taken  ;  he  was  buried  in  our  family  vault  in 
Oster-Hanninge  church-yard,  under  the  shade  of  four  beau- 
tiful lime-trees,  where  the  remains  of  his  daughter,  the 
pretty,  charming  little  Sophie,  who  died  at  the  age  of  four- 
teen, had  previously  been  deposited. 

My  parents  had  given  their  consent  to  my  betrothal 

With ;  the  wedding  was  to  be  celebrated  in  November, 

after  which  I  was  to  go  to  my  new  home  in  Christianstad. 
My  good  sisters,  and  not  the  least  Fredrika,  were  inde- 
fatigable in  assisting  me  to  provide  every  thing  requisite  on 
such  occasions ;  and  on  the  7th  of  November,  the  day  fixed 
for  the  wedding,  only  our  nearest  relatives  and  my  father's 
old  friend,  Bishop  Franzen,  who  was  to  perform  the  cere- 
mony, were  invited. 

Fredrika,  so  sympathizing  in  every  thing  that  concerned 
me,  saw  in  this  marriage  a  store  of  only  joy  and  happiness 
for  me,  and  augured,  in  a  prophetic  spirit,  that  it  would  be 
one  of  the  few  really  happy  unions  on  earth. 

Shortly  after  the  wedding,  my  husband  and  I  left  Arsta, 
and,  as  soon  as  I  had  arrived  in  Christianstad,  a  very  ani- 
mated correspondence  was  again  opened  with  Fredrika. 

In  the  summer  of  the  following  year,  1831,  I  had  the 
happiness  of  embracing  Fredrika  in  my  own  home.  She 
came  to  stay  with  us  at  least  a  twelvemonth,  to  read,  study, 
and  write  in  quietness.  Previous  to  my  arrival  in  Scania,1 
she  was  already  known  there  and  loved  as  the  authoress  of 
"  Sketches  of  Every-day  Life,'1  since,  at  the  close  of  the 
preceding  year,  her  former  anonyme  had  been  unveiled. 
The  highest,  most  intellectual,  and  elegant  society  of  Chris- 
tianstad longed  to  make  her  acquaintance. 

1  The  southernmost  province  of  Sweden,  in  which  the  town  of  Chria- 
tianstad  is  situated. 


BIOGRAPHY.  69 

Fredrika  had  determined  not  to  mix  in  society  or  accept 
any  invitations,  but  to  live  in  retirement  at  home,  and  de- 
velop herself  for  what  she  now  considered  to  be  her  mis- 
sion and  her  vocation,  namely,  to  become  an  authoress ; 
and,  enriched  by  experience  of  the  world,  to  devote  in  a 
double  measure  her  talents  to  the  comfort  and  succor  of 
the  suffering  and  the  unhappy. 

Fredrika  found  and  felt  that  she  required  to  learn  much, 
and  that  she  stood  in  need  of  a  firm  religious  faith,  which 
she  had  not.  The  contradictions  which  she  saw  in  the 
Bible  and  in  the  world  had  long  shaken  her  faith,  and 
raised  doubts  in  her  soul  to  such  a  degree  that,  at  times, 
with  her  reflecting  and  searching  mind,  they  seemed  to 
darken  her  whole  life. 

The  teacher  or  guide  whom  Fredrika  had  so  much 
yearned  after,  she  found  in  Christianstad.  The  head-mas- 
ter of  the  high  school  there,  the  Rev.  Pehr  Bd'klin,  was 
the  man  who,  by  his  philosophical  education,  his  clear 
mind,  his  profound,  truly  Christian  faith,  imparted  that 
faith  to  Fredrika,  and  thus  gave  her  peace  of  mind  and 
strength  to  proceed  on  that  path  in  life  which  she  had 
determined  to  follow. 

Elaborate  and  elegant  biographies  may  be  written,  but 
not  often  do  we  through  them  become  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  inmost  mind  of  the  person  described  therein. 
Fredrika  showed  me  one  day  a  letter  from  her  teacher  and 
friend,  and  from  it  I  have  copied  the  following  passage  :  — 

"  Your  mission  is  a  beautiful  one,  Miss  Bremer  !  Your 
mission  is  the  noblest  in  the  world.  Regardless  of  our  own 
cares  and  sorrows  in  life,  to  walk  with  heavenly  comfort 
through  earth's  cells,  so  full  of  agony,  is  the  lot  of  an  angel. 
May  God's  finger  appear  to  you  and  show  you  the  right 
way  !  As  a  brother  I  will  stand  by  your  side,  and,  praying 
and  meditating,  I  will  impart  to  you  every  ray  of  light  that 
may  be  vouchsafed  to  me ! " 

How  clearly,  from  these  simple  words,  do  we  not  per 


70  BIOGRAPHY. 

ceive  the  kind  of  spirit  which  lived  in  and  animated  the 
pupil  as  well  as  the  teacher ! 

In  our  house,  Fredrika  made  the  acquaintance  of  many 
amiable,  intelligent,  and  pleasant  persons.  They  tried  to 
prevail  upon  her  to  go  out  in  the  little  world  of  Christian- 
stad,  that  is  to  say,  "  La  creme  de  la  societe  "  there,  but  all 
in  vain.  Fredrika  remained  true  to  her  determination  to 
live  isolated  in  order  to  educate  herself  for  the  aim  in  life 
which  she  had  in  view,  nor  was  she  tempted  to  recom- 
mence a  social  life  which  had  never  been  to  her  taste. 
At  home  in  our  house,  she  liked,  however,  to  meet  with 
people,  and  she  moved  with  ease  and  cheerfulness  in  the 
little  circle  which  frequently  met  there.  She  was  liked  by 
all.  One  lady  in  this  circle  formed  a  passionate  friendship 
for  Fredrika.  She  was  talented,  witty,  handsome,  musical, 
but  passionate,  frivolous,  and  exceedingly  worldly  minded. 
How  a  woman  with  such  a  character  could  feel  such  a  vio- 
lent friendship  for  Fredrika,  who  was  now  so  seriously 
minded  and  so  free  from  vanity,  I  could  not  understand, 
and  it  made  me  a  little  uneasy.  In  the  beginning,  Fre- 
drika felt  averse  to  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  her, 
and  was  rather  embarrassed  by  her  long,  daily  visits. 
Sometimes  she  came  twice  in  the  course  of  the  day,  which 
interfered  with  Fredrika's  studies  and  work  ;  but  soon  Fre- 
drika began  to  return  her  friendship  with  equal  warmth. 
I  was  aware  that  this  lady  could  not  exercise  any  good  in- 
fluence over  Fredrika,  but  she  hoped  to  be  able  to  exercise 
a  good  influence  over  her.  "  Nina "  became,  although 
somewhat  later,  the  visible  result  of  this  acquaintance, 
—  "Nina,"  which  contains  so  many  poetically  beautiful 
sketches,  but  which  does  not  carry  the  same  impress  of 
purity  as  all  Fredrika's  previous  charming  works. 

Early  in  the  summer  of  1832  we  had  a  very  unexpected 
visit  from  my  youngest  brother  August,  who  had  felt  un- 
well for  some  time,  and,  by  the  advice  of  his  physician, 
was  now  going  to  consult  the  famous  Surgeon  Grafe  in 


BIOGRAPHY.  71 

Berlin.     I  had  the  pleasure  of  having  this  much  loved 

brother,  the  Cornet  in  "  The  H Family,"  staying  with 

us  for  a  few  days,  after  which  he  continued  his  journey  to 
Berlin,  when  Fredrika,  my  husband,  and  I  went  to  Stock- 
holm, and  thence  to  Arsta. 

After  a  visit  of  a  couple  of  months,  my  husband  and  I 
were  again  on  our  way  to  Christianstad,  but  Fredrika  re- 
mained with  my  mother,  with  whom  she  was  to  stay  until 
the  autumn,  when  she  would  come  back  to  us. 

Some  time  after  our  return  home  I  received  a  letter  in- 
forming me  that  my  brother  August  had  become  much 
worse.  He  expressed  an  earnest  wish  that  my  mother  and 
sisters  should  spend  the  winter  in  Berlin.  After  the  re- 
ceipt of  a  second  letter  from  August,  in  which  he  said  that 
he  was  getting  worse  and  worse,  my  mother  determined 
that  she  and  my  three  sisters  should  fulfill  his  wish,  and  on 
their  way  to  Berlin  they  paid  us  a  visit.  I  was  not  allowed 
to  have  these  dear  guests  more  than  two  days  in  my  house ; 
they  were  in  a  hurry,  and  I  hoped  only  that  they  might 
soon  reach  my  brother. 

Shortly  after  their  arrival  in  Berlin,  I  received  a  letter 
from  Fredrika,  telling  me  that  my  dear  brother  had  ended 
his  days,  and  that  he  had  died  without  suspecting  that  his 
end  was  so  near.  He  had  for  some  time  before  suffered 
severe  pain.  Fredrika  adds  :  — 

"  Pure  was  his  life,  warm  his  heart,  and  patiently  he  suf- 
fered. He  yearned  for  light  and  freedom,  and  he  has  found 
both."  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see 
God." 

On  the  21st  of  September,  Fredrika  wrote  from  Ber- 
lin:— 

"Dear  Sister,  —  Under  acacias  <im  neuen  KirchhofT 
our  August  is  now  sleeping.  On  Wednesday  morning,  be- 
tween seven  and  eight,  we  sisters  and  August's  friend 

Caspar  W ,  who  has  faithfully  watched  at  his  bedside, 

followed  him  to  his  last  resting-place.     Theremin  held  a 
funeral  oration  at  the  grave. 


72  BIOGRAPHY. 

"  It  was  a  beautiful  and  solemn  scene.  The  morning 
was  so  splendid,  the  sun  shone  so  brightly,  the  breeze  was 
so  fresh  and  invigorating,  that  every  thing  spoke  to  us 
more  of  resurrection  than  of  death.  The  people  who  had 
assembled  round  the  grave  showed  deep  sympathy,  and 
we  ... 

"  I  did  not  feel  it  so  heavily.  Ah  !  how  I  longed  to  have 
been  with  August! 

"  On  the  plain  monument,  which  will  be  raised  over  him, 
is  to  be  engraved :  '  August  Bremer,  his  mother's  and  sis- 
ters' darling.  Born,  .  .  .  Died,  .  .  .' 

"  I  cannot  find  words  to  describe  to  you  our  Ambassador's 
(Braudel)  kindness  and  care  of  August  during  his  illness. 

"  More  when  we  meet  again !  On  the  28th  we  shall 
probably  be  in  Ystad,  and  on  the  7th  of  October  we  shall 
be  with  you." 

A  few  days  later  Fredrika  writes :  — 

"We  are  all  now  more  composed.  This  morning  we 
have  been  to  plant  some  beautiful  acacias  upon  the  grave. 
The  cemetery  is  out  of  town,  and  in  the  style  of  Pere  la 
Chaise,  near  Paris,  full  of  fine  trees  and  flowers.  We  leave 
on  Monday.  In  Ystad  we  shall  have  to  undergo  a  long 
and  wearisome  quarantine." 

On  the  appointed  day  my  dear  relatives  arrived  in  Chris- 
tianstad.  They  remained,  however,  only  a  few  days,  it 
being  late  in  the  season,  and  my  mother  anxious  to  be  at 
home  before  the  cold  weather  set  in. 

During  these  days  there  was  a  table  in  our  drawing-room 
always  covered  with  the  choicest  fruit,  —  pine-apples,  grapes, 
peaches,  apricots,  plums,  pears,  and  transparent  Astrachan 
apples,  —  presents  from  my  good  friends  and  acquaintances, 
who  daily,  from  their  splendid  greenhouses  and  gardens  on 
their  estates  in  the  neighborhood,  sent  me  these  fruits  to 
offer  to  my  mother  and  sisters.  Such  magnificent  grapes, 

in  large  bunches,  as  those  which  I  got  from  A p,  I  have 

scarcely  seen  even  in  the  south  of  Europe.     They  were 


BIOGRAPHY.  73 

sent  to  me  by  the  amiable  Countess  W ,  formerly  Lady 

F ,  daughter  of  the  former  owner  of  Arsta.  I  always 

gratefully  remember  this  graceful  kindness. 

My  mother  and  my  two  youngest  sisters  left  for  Stock- 
holm, but  Fredrika  remained  with  us. 

Much  as  I  loved  to  see  Fredrika  in  our  house,  I  yet 
dreaded  the  winter,  when  her  friend  would  return  to  Chris- 
tianstad  from  her  estate  in  another  province.  But  matters 
were  changed.  Her  friend  came  back,  but  seized  with  a 
mortal  illness,  and  now  Fredrika  became  her  guiding,  min- 
istering angel,  pointing  out  to  her  the  road  to  heaven,  to 
which  Fredrika  wished  to  lead  all. 

In  the  spring,  Fredrika's  friend  longed  to  go  into  the 
country,  and  in  an  almost  dying  state  she  was  carried  out 
to  her  beautiful  country-seat,  distant  some  miles  from 
Christianstad.  Fredrika  wished  to  join  her,  and  I  accom- 
panied her  thither.  Fredrika  remained  with  her  friend 
until  about  the  middle  of  summer,  when  she  returned  to  us, 
deeply  affected  and  mourning  her  whose  eyes  she  had  closed. 
At  her  death-bed  Fredrika  gained  a  new  friend,  the  Count- 
ess S ,  a  near  relative  and  friend  of  the  departed. 

Countess  S invited  Fredrika  to  spend  a  year  with  her 

at  her  estate,  Tomb,  in  Norway,  provided  she  was  not  afraid 
of  the  complete  seclusion  from  the  world  in  which  she  lived 
there. 

Fredrika  accepted  this  offer  as  one  of  the  most  desirable 
which  could  be  made  to  her.  In  her  then  melancholy  state 
of  mind,  she  only  longed  to  get  away  from  people  and  from 
society,  "  the  farther  away  the  better,"  as  she  said  when,  in 
August,  1833,  we  took  leave  of  each  other.  I  felt  happy 
at  seeing  her  under  the  protection  of  the  good  Countess 

S .  She  remained  two  years  at  Tomb.  The  quiet  and 

perfect  retirement  which  Fredrika  enjoyed  there  was  to  her 
a  real  "elixir  of  life,"  as  she  expressed  herself  in  one  of  her 
letters  to  me.  "What  added  to  her  happiness  was,  that  she 
was  allowed  to  arrange  her  mode  of  life  exactly  as  she 


74  BIOGRAPHY. 

pleased ;  was  at  liberty  to  remain  in  her  room  those  days 
when  she  did  not  wish  to  see  any  body ;  but  always  was 
welcome  at  any  moment  when  she  wished  to  come  down  to 

the  Countess  S .    Generally,  Fredrika  spent  the  whole 

of  the  forenoon  in  her  own  room,  reading  and  writing,  and 
came  into  the  drawing-room  in  the  evening,  when  the  day 
usually  closed  with  a  game  at  chess,  of  which  the  Countess 
was  passionately  fond,  and  of  which  Fredrika  was  now  no 
longer  afraid.  Fredrika  paid  a  visit  of  a  couple  of  months  to 
Arsta  in  1835,  but  returned  in  the  autumn  to  Tomb,  where 
she  spent  the  winters  of  1836,  1837,  1838,  and  1839,  visit- 
ing in  the  summer  baths  and  spas,  either  with  the  Count- 
ess S — —  or  with  my  mother  and  Agatha.  When  my 
mother,  in  the  autumn  of  1841,  went  to  Nizza  with  Agatha, 
in  the  hope  that  the  milder  climate  of  the  south  might 
strengthen  Agatha's  weak  health,  Fredrika  remained  quite 
alone  at  Arsta,  and  enjoyed  then  her  solitude  and  her  per- 
fect freedom.  In  June,  the  following  year,  my  mother  and 
Agatha  returned  to  her  from  Nizza. 

While,  in    1844,  I   was   using   the   cold-water  cure   at 

Sb'derkb'ping,  I  saw  again   the  Countess  S ,  suffering 

and  very  sickly ;  she  was  also  going  to  try  this  cure,  "  in- 
vented for  witches,"  as  she  called  it.  We  were  together 
almost  daily  in  the  intervals  between  the  five  baths  which 
we  each  had  to  take  every  day,  and  Fredrika  was  frequently 
the  subject  of  our  conversation.  "  Sincerely  as  I  love 
Fredrika,"  the  Countess  said  to  me  one  day,  "  still  I  never 
liked  her  whim  to  enter  the  hospital  at  Christiana  as  a 
nurse.  Every  year,  when  Fredrika  was  staying  with  me, 
she  wanted  to  realize  this  fancy,  and  it  never  was  so  near 
being  realized  as  in  1835.  The  day  had  already  been  fixed 
for  our  journey  to  Christiana,  to  install  Fredrika  in  the 
hospital.  My  arguments,  aided  by  an  expression  used  by 
me  about  the  hospital  —  calling  it  her  Hermitage  —  caused 
her  to  weigh  the  matter  over  in  her  mind  once  more.  She 
herself  proposed  immediately  to  postpone  our  journey ;  the 


BIOGRAPHY.  75 

plan  was  given  up  altogether ;  we  did  not  again  mention  it, 
and  glad  I  was  that  Fredrika  never  again  alluded  to  the 
subject." 

Fredrika  stayed  with  this  friend  and  excellent  woman 
again  the  following  year,  1845,  and,  for  the  last  time,  to 
watch  at  her  sick-bed  and  close  her  eyes. 

After  her  return  from  Norway,  Fredrika  remained  some 
time  at  home  with  my  mother.  She  did  not  feel  happy ; 
she  longed  for  a  change  in  her  position  in  life,  and  she 
now  began  making  plans  for  her  voyage  to  America.  She 
did  not,  however,  communicate  these  plans  either  to  my 
mother  or  to  Agatha,  fearing  that  they  would  meet  with 
strenuous  opposition. 

Already,  before  Fredrika  had  been  spoken  of  and  had 
a  name  as  an  authoress,  —  that  is  to  say,  before  she  had 
completed  her  thirtieth  year,  —  she  had  had  three  different 
offers  of  marriage  ;  but  she  did  not  wish  to  marry. 

One  of  the  three  persons  who  more  than  once  tried  to 
persuade  her  to  alter 'her  resolution,  was  an  amiable  young 
man,  of  good  family,  for  whom  Fredrika,  in  her  earliest 
youth,  had  felt  a  kind  of  childish  love  ;  but  she  would  not 
let  herself  be  persuaded,  believing  that  she  was  not  made 
for  the  married  state,  and  that,  if  ever  she  were  to  try  the 
experiment,  she  would  bitterly  repent  it,  find  herself  un- 
happy, and  lose  her  dearly  loved  independence.  Once 
only  she  hesitated  ;  but  it  was  for  one  moment  only,  when 
an  amiable,  good,  and  original  elderly  gentleman  hoped  to 
find  in  his  union  with  her  a  compensation  for  the  domestic 
happiness  which  he  had  lost  through  the  death  of  a  be- 
loved wife,  and  who  saw  in  Fredrika  the  only  one  capable 
of  being  a  comfort  and  happiness  to  him  during  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days.  After  her  thirtieth  year,  and  when 
she  had  already  gained  fame,  she  had  several  offers ;  but 
she  remained  true  to  her  determination  to  live  ena 
(single),  —  a  good  expression,  which  she  had  learnt  in 
Norway. 


76  BIOGRAPHY. 

My  husband's  appointment  to  another  post  was  the  cause 
of  our  removal  to  Stockholm  about  the  latter  part  of  1847. 
This  made  Fredrika,  the  following  year,  consider  the  time 
propitious  for  announcing  her  plans  for  travelling.  She 
thought  that  she  might  now  set  out,  easy  in  her  mind, 
knowing  that  my  husband  and  myself  would  be  near  my 
mother  and  Agatha.  We  all  certainly  represented  to  her 
the  risk  of  the  long  voyage,  which  Fredrika  intended  to 
undertake  quite  alone ;  but  she  would  not  listen  to  our 
arguments.  Agatha  cried  and  was  in  despair  at  these 
plans.  In  order  to  comfort  her,  Fredrika  promised  to 
write  to  her  all  her  letters  from  America.  I  do  not  deny 
that  it  appeared  to  me  really  awful,  that  Fredrika,  this 
delicate  little  creature,  should  start  quite  alone  on  such  a 
voyage,  and  I  did  not  understand  how  she  could  have  the 
courage  to  do  it ;  but  she  never  wanted  courage ;  and  I  re- 
membered her  wish,  when  she  was  a  child,  to  enter  the 
army  and  join  the  Swedish  troops  in  Germany.  The  only 
consolatory  thought  for  us  at  home  was,  that  immediately 
on  FYedrika's  arrival  in  America,  she  would  be  met  and 
received  by  friends,  who,  although  personally  unknown  to 
her,  had,  after  reading  her  works,  invited  her  in  the  most 
amiable  manner  to  be  a  guest  in  their  homes  in  New 
York. 

In  August,  1848,  Fredrika  left  home,  paying  first  a  visit 
to  her  old  friend  and  teacher,  the  Rev.  P.  Boklin,  in  Scania. 
The  autumn  and  following  winter  she  spent  in  Copen- 
hagen, and  after  several  trips  to  the  Danish  islands  during 
the  ensuing  summer,  she  travelled  to  New  York  by  way  of 
London. 

I  shall  pause  here  a  few  moments  in  my  narrative,  in 
order  to  give  some  account  of  Fredrika's  first  appearance 
as  an  authoress. 

It  was  during  the  year  1828  that,  for  the  first  time,  the 
thought  arose  in  Fredrika's  mind  of  publishing  the  best  of 
all  that  she  had  written  the  previous  years,  in  order  thereby 


BIOGRAPHY.  77 

to  procure  the  means  of  satisfying  the  dearest  wish  of  her 
kind  heart,  namely,  to  assist  the  poor.  She  had  hitherto 
written  to  give  expression  to  her  feelings,  and  to  retain  the 
images  of  her  ever-active  fantasy,  and  for  this  intended 
work  she  now  wrote  "  Axel  and  Anna ;  or,  Correspondence 
between  two  Stories,"  and  "  Letters  on  the  Supper-parties 
in  Stockholm." 

Uncertain  whether  she  would  succeed,  and  uncertain, 
too,  whether  our  parents  would  allow  her  to  appear  pub- 
licly as  an  authoress,  Fredrika  determined  to  send  her 
manuscript  to  Upsala  with  my  brother  August,  when  he 
went  to  the  University  in  the  autumn  of  that  year. 

He  found  a  willing  publisher  for  her  little  work  in  Mr. 
Palmblad,  the  printer.  He  was,  however,  so  little  certain 
how  far  the  enterprise  might  succeed,  that  he  considered 
that  the  edition  ought  not  to  exceed  three  hundred  volumes, 
and  the  price  of  the  copyright  was  therefore  low  in  propor- 
tion, although  sufficient  to  make  Fredrika  happy  and  satis- 
fied. The  book  was  published  before  the  end  of  the  year, 
under  the  title  of  "  Sketches  of  Every-day  Life,"  without 
the  name  of  the  author,  of  which,  also,  Mr.  Palmblad  was 
left  in  ignorance.  It  gained  the  approval  of  the  public 
and  the  praises  of  the  reviewers,  although  not  unmixed 
with  a  few  friendly  remarks.  In  one  of  the  reviews,  it  was 
supposed  that  "  a  lady,  a  young  lady,"  was  the  authoress, 
and  the  critic  hoped  that  when  her  talent  had  become 
more  matured  he  might  have  occasion  to  give  her  works 
more  unlimited  praise.  On  a  copy  of  this  review  Fredrika 
has  written,  "  Yes,  dear  critic  ;  that  rests  in  the  hands  of 
God." 

This  success  encouraged  Fredrika  to  proceed  on  the  path 
which  she  had  chosen  as  an  authoress,  and  to  try  to  write 
a  novel.  She  occupied  herself  with  this  during  the  sum- 
mer of  1829,  and  the  result  of  this  attempt  was  the  first  part 

of  "  The  H Family,"  which,  together  with  some  other 

minor  pieces,  she  had  designed  for  the  second  volume  of 


78  BIOGRAPHY. 

the  "  Sketches."  For  the  publication  thereof  she  caused  ne- 
gotiations to  be  opened  —  I  do  not  know  for  what  reason — 
with  a  publisher  in  Stockholm,  to  whom  the  manuscript 
was  sent  for  perusal.  He  declined  the  proposal,  —  so  un- 
certain were  people  at  that  time  about  the  value  of  Fre- 
drika's  works.  But  through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
former  publisher,  Mr.  Palrnblad,  the  second  volume  was 
printed  and  published  in  1830.  The  great  applause  with 
which  it  was  received,  the  sensation  which  it  created,  sur- 
passed every  thing  which  Fredrika  thought  she  could  have 
expected.  In  a  newspaper  review,  Swedish  literature  was 
congratulated  on  the  acquisition  of  such  a  talent  as  that 
of  the  authoress. 

Fredrika's  authorship  had,  from  the  very  beginning, 
been  kept  a  secret  between  her  and  her  sisters.  She  did 
not  wish  to  reveal  it  to  our  parents  until  she  knew  whether 
she  would  succeed.  But  now  she  thought  that  the  time 
had  come  to  mention  it  to  my  mother.  Meanwhile  the 
book  had  become  the  subject  of  general  conversation  in  all 
circles  of  society  in  Stockholm.  When  one  day  Franzen, 
while  paying  us  a  visit,  spoke  of  it  in  a  highly  flattering 
manner,  expressing  an  ardent  wish  to  raise  the  veil  behind 
which  the  authoress  concealed  herself,  my  mother  and 
Fredrika  thought  that,  out  of  consideration  for  this  old 
friend  of  the  family,  the  secret  ought  to  be  confided  to  him. 
Shortly  after  this,  the  Swedish  Academy  awarded  its  lesser 
gold  medal  to  Fredrika,  as  a  token  of  its  esteem  and  ap- 
probation. Thus  the  hitherto  preserved  secret  of  the 
authorship  was  revealed. 

The  success  which  also  the  third  volume  of  these 
"  Sketches  "  met  with  seemed  to  point  out  the  road  on  which 
Fredrika  had  to  find  the  realization  of  her  mission  in  life. 
She  obeyed  this  call,  by  laboring  diligently  as  an  authoress, 
at  shorter  or  longer  intervals,  until  the  end  of  her  life. 
Most  of  her  works  were  translated  into  foreign  languages, 
were  read  with  avidity,  and  made  her  name  known,  loved, 
and  respected  abroad. 


BIOGRAPHY.  79 

The  fame  which  they  attained  called  forth,  in  her  native 
country,  a  new  public  distinction.  On  the  anniversary  of 
the  Swedish  Academy,  on  the  20th  of  December,  1844, 
the  president,  after  having  announced  which  of  the  writings, 
handed  in  during  the  year  for  competition,  had  been  re- 
warded with  a  prize,  said :  — 

"  The  academy  being  of  opinion  that  it  would  act  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  prescribed  rules  in  following  attentively 
the  events  in  Swedish  literature,  even  beyond  the  arena 
which  it  has  opened  for  competition,  has  more  than  once 
had  the  satisfaction,  in  acknowledging  distinguished  merit, 
of  uniting  with  the  public  in  paying  homage  to  such  merit. 

u  It  is  now  thirteen  years  since  the  academy  awarded  a 
prize  to  a  young  genius,  whose  first  essays  gave  signs  of  a 
talent  of  uncommon  order,  in  a  branch  of  literature  for 
which  we  hitherto  have  been  without  a  model.  The  rare 
union  of  the  qualities  of  the  heart  and  of  the  mind,  of 
beauty  in  delineation  and  purity  of  thought  which  breathe 
through  the  pictures  of  domestic  life,  beginning  with 
1  Sketches  of  Every-day  Life,'  and  continued  in  a  series 
of  charming  paintings  of  the  interior  of  social  life,  often 
hidden  from  the  eyes  of  the  public,  had  drawn  the  attention 
not  only  of  Sweden,  but  also  of  Europe,  to  the  authoress. 
The  Swedish  Academy  has  requested  and  obtained  the 
sanction  of  its  illustrious  patron  1  to  award  to  the  author- 
ess, Miss  Fredrika  Bremer,  its  large  medal  in  gold,  with 
the  motto, '  Genius  and  Taste,'  not  as  a  reward,  for  this  can- 


1  King  Gustavus  III.  founded,  on  the  20th  of  March,  1786,  an  academy, 
which,  under  the  name  of  "  The  Swedish  Academy,"  and  with  the  motto 
"Genius  and  Taste,"  was  to  consist  of  eighteen  members,  whose  object  it 
would  be  to  labor  for  the  improvement  of  the  Swedish  language,  to  en- 
courage emulation  in  eloquence  and  poetry,  and 'sing  the  praises  of  the 
great  men  who  had  either  ruled  or  served  or  fought  for  their  native  coun- 
try. With  the  sanction  of  the  king,  as  patron  of  the  academy,  the  academy 
is  empowered  to  distinguish  with  the  large  and  small  medal  in  gold  Swed- 
ish authors  for  meritorious  writings,  even  when  such  works  have  not  been 
sent  in  for  the  purpose  of  contending  for  the  annual  prizes. 


80  BIOGRAPHY. 

not  come  in  question,  but  as  an  acknowledgment  of  a  merit 
which,  according  to  the  words  of  the  founder,  '  has  raised 
the  fame  of  SAvedish  literature  in  foreign  countries.'  " 

When  Fredrika,  in  1861,  had  closed,  under  the  title  of 
"  Life  in  the  Old  World,"  the  narrative  of  her  travels  in 
Palestine,  Greece,  and  other  countries,  she  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  occupied  with  any  larger  work.  The  imper- 
fect outlines  of  such  works,  found  amongst  her  papers, 
which  she  has  left  behind,  bear  the  stamp  of  belonging  to  a 
previous  period.  But  her  pen  was  not  allowed  to  have 
perfect  rest.  She  contributed,  together  with  some  other 
ladies,  to  the  publication  of  "  Writings  for  Children,"  1  and 
at  Christmas,  1865,  the  first  part  of  "A  Little  Pilgrimage  " 
appeared  in  print.  Her  intention  was,  in  this  little  narra- 
tive, to  make  an  exposition  of  the  most  essential  and  high- 
est doctrine  of  the  Christian  religion,  in  a  manner  simple 
and  plain  enough  to  be  understood  even  by  children,  which 
essential  was  intended  to  be  shown  more  clearly  in  a  sub- 
sequent number.  But,  in  order  to  be  able  to  do  her  best, 
she  considered  that  she  ought  first  to  read  again  Olshau- 
sen's  "  Commentaries  on  the  New  Testament,"  and  Nean- 
der's  "  Leben  Jesu."  In  reference  to  the  latter,  she  said, 
in  a  letter  to  my  husband,  that  although  one  might  differ  in 
much  from  the  opinions  of  Neander,  still  it  was  impossible 
not  to  love  his  love  of  truth,  the  candor  with  which  he  had 
expressed  his  thoughts,  and  to  learn  much  from  his  pro- 
foundness and  honest  research.  These  studies,  and  the 
continuation  of  the  little  narrative,  were  interrupted  by 
Fredrika's  death,  which  took  place  soon  after. 

I  resume  here  the  thread  of  my  narrative.  When 
Fredrika  returned  to  her  native  country  from  America, 
in  the  autumn  of.  1851,  she  was  met  by  mournful  tidings. 
Our  sister  Agatha,  whose  health  had  long  been  weak  and 

1  As  a  specimen  of  Fredrika's  talent  in  this  kind  of  literature,  I  subjoin 
two  tales,  The  Ugly  Hand  and  the  Beautiful  Hand,  and  Christmas  Eve  and 
Christmas  Matins. 


BIOGRAPHY.  81 

failing,  had,  some  time  previous  to  Fredrika's  return,  fallen 
into  a  state  of  hectic  decline.  Calmly,  and  apparently  with- 
out pain,  she  departed  this  life.  In  order  that  Freclrika 
should  not  return  to  her  own  home  unprepared  for  this 
painful  loss,  and  not  find  Agatha  any  more  there,  my 
mother  and  I  wished  to  inform  her  of  this  sad  event.  We 
knew  that  she  was  on  her  way  home,  but  we  did  not  know 
which  route  she  intended  to  take.  In  this  uncertainty,  let- 
ters were  despatched  to  her  both  to  Dalarci  and  to  Gothen- 
burg. The  former  she  received  on  her  arrival  in  Sweden, 
and  her  return  to  Stockholm  and  her  home  was  any  thing 
but  joyful. 

After  a  few  days'  rest,  Fredrika  resumed  her  old  habits 
and  occupations.  The  forenoons  were  devoted  to  reading 
and  writing.  During  these  moments  no  one  was  allowed 
to  enter  the  room,  and  she  received  no  visitors  until  one 
o'clock,  when  she  usually  went  out  to  breathe  a  little  fresh 
air,  or  to  visit  some  friend.  Fredrika  was  allowed  to  man 
age  and  act  as  it  best  suited  her  convenience,  and  she 
therefore  now  led  an  independent  life  at  home. 

Fredrika  had  during  her  career  as  an  authoress,  partly 
in  consequence  of  her  own  experience  in  youth  and  partly 
from  what  she  had  witnessed  in  the  world,  made  it  the  aim 
of  her  life  to  labor*  in  the  cause  of  Woman,  oppressed,  ac- 
cording to  her  notions ;  and  on  her  return  from  America,  :t 
became  her  favorite  idea  to  work  for  the  entire  emancipa- 
tion of  the  Swedish  woman  and  her  deliverance  from  the 
traditional  restrictions  in  her  social  position,  which  Freclrika 
considered  to  be  both  injurious  and  opposed  to  her  natural 
rights.  She  wished,  therefore,  that  women  should,  like 
men,  and  together  with  them,  be  allowed  to  study  in  the 
elementary  schools  and  at  the  academies,  in  order  to  gain 
an  opportunity  of  obtaining  employments  and  situations 
suitable  for  them,  in  the  service  of  the  state.  According 
to  Fredrika's  ideas  it  was  a  crying  injustice  to  deny  women, 
even  those  with  exceedingly  brilliant  intellect  and  great 
6 


82  BIOGRAPHY. 

talents,  such  opportunities.  She  said  she  was  firmly  con- 
vinced that  they  could  acquire  all  kinds  of  knowledge  just 
as  well  as  men  ;  that  they  ought  to  stand  on  the  same  level 
with  them,  and  that  they  ought  to  prepare  themselves  in 
the  public  schools  and  universities  to  become  lecturers, 
professors,  judges,  physicians,  and  functionaries  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  state.  She  predicted  that  if  women  were  per- 
mitted, like  men,  to  acquire  knowledge  and  skill,  they 
would,  when  their  capacity  and  indispensableness  in  the 
labor  of  society  had  become  more  generally  acknowledged, 
be  found  fit  for  a  variety  of  occupations,  which  partly 
already  now  existed,  and  partly  would  be  required  in  future 
under  a  more  energetic  development  of  society ;  and  she 
maintained  that  Woman  ought  to  have  the  same  right  to 
benefit  her  native  country  with  her  talents  as  Man. 

We  had  many  conversations  on  this  subject  before 
"  Hertha  "  was  written.  I  fully  coincided  with  Fredrika's 
opinion,  that  a  great  injustice  was  contained  in  our  legisla- 
tion not  to  allow  Swedish  women,  as  women  in  other  coun- 
tries, to  attain  their  majority  when  they  arrived  at  a  certain 
age, — for  instance,  when  they  had  reached  their  twenty-fifth 
year ;  and  consequently  to  dispose  of  their  future  life  and 
their  property ;  but  in  other  respects  our  opinions  differed. 
I  could  not  see  that  the  management  of  the  business  of  the 
stite  was  the  province  of  women,  and  I  begged  Fredrika 
to  consider  well  before  writing,  even  with  the  best  inten- 
tions, and  encouraging  Swedish  women  to  enter  upon  a 
path  which,  according  to  my  view,  would  lead  them  to 
misery  instead  of  happiness.  "  Let  us,"  I  said,  "  remember 
the  beautiful  lines  of  Pope,  which  we  learned  by  heart 
when  we  were  children  :  — 

"  '  A  woman  is  born  to  dignify  retreat, 

In  shade  to  flourish,  and  unseen  be  great ; 

Fearful  of  fame,  unwilling  to  be  known, 

Should  seek  but  Heaven's  applauses  and  her  own.' " 

Fredrika  observed  that  the  noble  virtue,  modesty,  ought 


BIOGRAPHY.  83 

not  to  be  abased  in  order  to  veil  under  it  a  glaring-  defect- 
iveness  in  the  education  of  women.  The  youth  always 
finds  for  his  education  a  sure  guide  in  the  schools  of  his 
native  country,  and  a  possibility  of  choosing  a  sphere  of 
activity  according  to  his  capacity  and  mental  gifts.  Such 
advantages  are  to  the  young  woman  forbidden  fruit,  and 
her  aspirations  to  attain  them  considered  derogatory  to 
female  modesty. 

The  sense  of  Pope's  lines,  just  quoted,  I  considered  to 
express  in  general  woman's  quiet,  noble  mission,  although 
naturally  there  are  exceptions.  But  one  ought  not  to  re- 
gard the  exceptions,  but  only  the  general  rule.  I  acknowl- 
edged that  there  existed  a  great  diversity  of  mental  gifts, 
and  that  Fredrika,  with  her  rare  talents  and  accomplish- 
ments, had  chosen  the  path  in  which  as  an  authoress  she 
could  labor,  ennobling  humanity,  and  thereby  effect  an  im- 
mense deal  of  good  ;  but  how  small  is  not  the  number  of 
women  who  have  been  so  gifted,  and  how  dangerous  would 
it  not  be  to  encourage  young  girls,  who  are  generally 
inclined  to  entertain  a  high  opinion  of  themselves  and  of 
their  capacities,  to  choose  a  career,  in  which,  while  con- 
tending with  young  men  in  their  studies  and  in  employ- 
ments under  government,  they  would  or  could  be  subject 
to  influences  detrimental  to  true  womanhood  and  modesty. 
Educated  with  this  aim  in  view,  they  would  become  neither 
men  nor  women,  and,  when  older,  unfit  for  domestic  life.. 

As  a  wife,  a  mother,  or  instructress,  —  only  there  I  saw 
woman  in  the  place  which  God  had  assigned  her ;  and  if 
she  rightly  understood  her  exalted  and  important  mission 
in  the  world,  she  might  become  the  educator  of  the  whole 
human  race,  and  as  such  be  of  infinitely  greater  use  to  the 
state  and  her  native  country  than  by  holding  an  employ- 
ment under  government.  Woman's  influence  upon  the 
rising  generation  —  how  incalculably  great  is  it  not !  None 
stands  nearer  to  the  child  than  a  woman  ;  none  knows  bet- 
ter how  to  guide  it  from  its  earliest  age,  develop  its  mind, 


»4  BIOGRAPHY. 

teach  it  to  think,  to  hearken  to  the  voice  of  conscience, 
and  lead  it  in  the  fear  of  God  and  love  of  truth  and  justice. 

I  entreated,  therefore,  Fredrika,  who  had  drawn  woman 
so  beautifully  and  truly  in  her  proper  sphere  of  activity, 
.and  who  had,  by  her  previous  writings,  drawn  forth  the 
motherly  element  in  society,  to  write  her  new  book  in  the 
same  spirit,  and  to  teach  women  to  ennoble  themselves,  to 
develop  themselves  into  truly  Christian,  prudent,  clever  — 
not  learned,  but  enlightened  —  educators,  able  to  lay  the 
sure  moral  foundation  on  which  all  education  ought  to  rest, 
and  which  now,  in  general,  is  wanting.  I  owned  that  more 
ways  than  hitherto  of  providing  honestly  for  themselves 
ought  to  be  made  accessible  to  women  with  indifferent 
capacities,  and  that  the  question  here  had  reference  only 
to  women  more  highly  gifted. 

Considering  Fredrika's  projects  impossible  to  realize,  in 
a  physical  as  well  as  a  moral  and  economical  point  of  view, 
I  asked  her  to  propose,  just  for  these  more  gifted  women, 
that  they  should,  several  or  few  of  them,  unite  in  estab- 
lishing educational  institutions  for  girls  in  the  country,  in 
the  vicinity  of  towns,  where  they  could  remain  until  their 
education  was  finished,  —  not  in  a  superficial,  frivolous  di- 
rection, such  as  now  is  frequently  the  case,  —  but  aiming 
at  their  immortal  soul's  development  in  purity  and  in 
Christian  spirit,  while  at  the  same  time  they  could  enjoy 
every  innocent  recreation  and  amusement,  learn  practical 
utility,  and  acquire  every  useful  knowledge  in  languages, 
&c.,  &c. 

I  proposed  that  these  gifted  women  should  also  establish 
similar  institutions  for  boys  of  between  six  and  ten  years 
of  age,  after  which  time  their  more  learned  education  be- 

o     * 

gins.  During  this  time  the  good  moral  foundation,  which 
so  many  children  cannot  obtain  in  their  parental  home  or 
in  ordinary  schools,  could  be  laid  by  these  women,  through 
a  guidance  which  would  develop  the  children  into  think- 
ing, honest,  and  conscientious  beings,  to  the  improvement 


BIOGRAPHY.  85 

and  advantage  of  society,  when  in  a  more  mature  age  they 
began  to  act,  if  coming  out  of  the  first  mentioned  institu- 
tion, as  well  educated  mothers  and  teachers  ;  or,  if  out 
of  the  latter,  as  men  in  the  state.  And  how  beneficially 
would  not  such  an  education  in  the  country  influence  the 
children's  health  both  of  body  and  mind ! 

But  I  was  of  opinion  that  these  gifted  women  ought  not 
to  be  too  young ;  that  they  should  be  from  thirty  to  forty 
years  old  ;  that  they  ought  likewise  to  be  distinguished  by 
capacity  and  experience  as  well  as  in  a  moral  point  of 
view.  They  would  then  have  sufficient  time  to  prepare 
themselves  for  their  important  mission,  and  I  imagined  that 
this  preparation  could  be  compassed  in  a  practical  way  by 
the  experience  which  they  could  gain  as  teachers  in  pri- 
vate families  or  in  good  boarding-schools.  In  these  also 
unmarried  women  would  have  an  ample  field  for  a  noble 
and  blessed  activity,  provided  they  understood  the  word 
education  in  its  spiritual  and  moral  sense,  and  did  not  con- 
found or  consider  it  equivalent  with  mere  teaching  and 
acquiring  knowledge,  —  which,  of  course,  they  would  have 
to  impart  to  the  young. 

Nobody  understood  better  than  Fredrika,  as  will  be 
seen  by  her  previous  writings  and  by  her  active  life,  how 
to  estimate  in  its  full  significance  woman's  mission  to  be 
the  mother  and  educator  of  the  human  race  ;  but,  after  her 
return  from  America,  her  predominating  thought  was  how 
she  might  be  able  to  secure  liberty  and  an  unrestricted 
sphere  of  activity  for  Swedish  women.  She  remarked,  that 
a  number  of  functions  belong  to  human  life,  which  cannot 
be  said  to  be  either  fatherly  or  motherly,  but  which  —  as 
she  maintained  —  the  "  fatherly  "  had  in  all  times  undi- 
videdly  taken  upon  itself.  She  seemed  to  understand  the 
reason.  Man  is  superior  to  woman  in  physical  strength, 
and  as  long  as  people  lived  for  the  most  part  in  a  kind  of 
savage  state,  man  was  woman's  natural  master,  and  woman 
merely  a  part  of  the  man.  But  now,  Fredrika  argued, 


86  BIOGRAPHY. 

the  ancient  tradition  about  Adam's  rib  has  undergone  a 
considerable  modification  through  Christianity  itself.  Our 
life  is  now  more  essentially  a  spiritual  life  —  a  spiritual 
world  —  in  which  no  one  is  man  or  woman  with  respect  to 
right  of  inheritance,  majority,  or  the  unbounded  produc- 
tiveness of  mental  gifts.  Through  Christianity  woman  is 
already  emancipated,  but  the  force  of  habit  is  strong,  and 
strongest  in  woman.  The  old,  so  to  speak,  natural  condi- 
tion, she  has  been  used  to  look  upon  as  the  most  conven- 
ient. Fredrika  felt  herself  called  upon  to  give  woman  a 
strong  reminder  of  her  true,  that  is  her  full,  mission. 

Woman's  true  mission  and  sphere  of  activity  in  general, 
appeared  to  me  to  have  been  pointed  out  to  her  by  her  na- 
ture, which  in  all  times  and  amongst  all  nations,  in  ordinary 
cases,  is  the  same,  and  which  in  Christianity  has  received 
her  highest  and  noblest  mission  in  leading  man's  immortal 
soul  to  God. 

Fredrika  had  frequently  requested  me  to  communicate 
to  her  any  thing  which  I  had  found  uncommon,  —  any  pe- 
culiarity in  people,  especially  in  unmarried  women,  and 
what  afforded  them  any  pleasure  here  in  this  world.  This 
I  had  often  done.  And  now  I  related  to  her  some  beauti- 
ful traits  in  children,  in  case  she  should  wish  to  make  use 
of  them  in  her  new  book,  and  as  illustrations  to  my  project 
for  her  eminently  gifted  women,  for  whom  I  was  anxious 
to  point  out  a  higher  and  more  important  mission,  more 
suitable  both  for  their  head  and  heart,  than  that  of  becom- 
ing public  functionaries. 

I  was  one  evening,  some  years  ago,  at  a  concert  in 
Stockholm,  with  one  of  my  friends  and  her  son,  then  ten 
years  old.  The  lad  was  sitting  before  us.  On  the  other 
side  of  me  I  had  another  intimate  friend.  She  noticed  in 
the  course  of  the  evening  that  the  boy  several  times  put 
his  hand  to  his  forehead,  and  she  asked  him  therefore  if 
he  had  the  headache  ?  "  No,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  never 
have  the  headache."  My  friend  began  then  to  converse 


BIOGRAPHY.  87 

with  some  acquaintances  who  were  sitting  behind  her.  After 
a  little  while  the  lad  became  very  uneasy,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  he  wanted  to  say  something  to  my  friend ;  but  she  was 
deep  in  conversation  with  her  acquaintances.  At  last  he 
was  unable  to  wait  any  longer,  and  he  said  to  her:  "  I  say ! 
I  say  !  "  And  when  she  turned  round  to  him,  he  said  :  "  I 
told  you  just  now  that  I  never  had  the  headache  ;  but  it  is 
possible  that  I  have  had  it,  although  I  do  not  recollect  it." 
It  was  the  word  never  which  disturbed  the  boy's  conscience, 
because  he  was  not  sure  that  it  was  perfectly  true. 

One  day  I  paid  a  visit  to  one  of  my  friends.  On  enter- 
ing the  dining-room,  I  saw  two  of  "her  sons,  of  about  seven 
or  eight  years  old,  sitting  each  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 
They  came  forward  to  greet  me,  and  I  asked  them  the 
reason  why  they  were  sitting  so  far  apart.  "  Well,"  said 
one  of  them,  "  mamma  has  said  that  when  we  get  angry 
with  one  another  we  are  not  allowed  to  fight,  but  that  we 
must  sit  down  as  far  as  possible  from  each  other,  until  our 
anger  is  over."  He  had  scarcely  finished  these  words 
when  they  both  ran  as  fast  as  possible  to  sit  down,  each  in 
their  corner,  looking  fiercely  at  one  another.  "  Is  not  your 
anger  over  yet  ?  "  I  asked.  "  No,"  they  both  shouted  at 
once.  I  went  in  to  my  friend,  and  when,  after  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  I  came  back  into  the  dining-room,  I  found  the 
little  brothers  playing  together.  "  Is  it  over  now  ? "  I 
asked.  They  answered,  quite  pleased,  "  Yes,  now  it 's 
over."  What  an  excellent  method  to  teach  children  to 
conquer  their  violent  passions,  to  calm  themselves,  and  to 
think  before  acting. 

One  day  when  I  had  gone  out  shopping,  a  gentleman, 
one  of  our  acquaintances,  saw  me,  and  came  into  the  shop 
where  I  was  to  speak  to  me.  A  moment  after,  a  young 
lad  who  had  seen  me  also,  entered  for  the  same  purpose. 

Mr.  de  R exclaimed  :  "  Ah,  voila  mon  bon  ami 

George ! "  adding,  while  he  turned  round  to  me  :  "  Nous 
nous  sommes  rencontres  1'autre  soir  a  un  bal  d'enfans,  et 


88  BIOGRAPHY. 

nous  sommes  devenues  de  si  bons  amis.  N'est  ce  pas  que 
nous  somrnes  bons  amis  ?  "  he  said,  patting  the  lad,  who 
was  twelve  years  old,  on  the  shoulder.  The  latter  looked 
a  little  uneasy,  but  answered,  after  a  short  reflection  :  "  Je 
crois  certainement  que  nous  le  deviendrons  lorsque  nous 
nous  connaitrons  mieux."  It  was  impossible  to  answer 
more  candidly,  and  at  the  same  time  more  politely. 

These  boys  had  the  invaluable  happiness  of  having 
mothers  who  had  understood  how  to  lay  the  best  founda- 
tion of  all  education. 

"  I  know  no  other  sphere  of  activity  for  your  gifted 
women,  none  more  useful  and  blessed  for  the  state,"  I  said 
to  Fredrika,  "  than  to  educate  the  youth  of  the  country, 
and  to  give  them  the  compass  which  shows  them  the  right 
way  on  their  journey  through  life,  and  the  beneficial  influ- 
ence of  which  extends  over  generations." 

Fredrika  did  not  say  much  in  reply  to  my  educational 
projects  ;  she  wanted  to  see  woman  active  in  all  directions 
of  the  world's  stage. 

My  mother  and  sisters  had  several  years  previously 
founded  a  school  on  an  estate  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ar- 
sta,  also  belonging  to  our  family.  An  elderly  widow  had 
been  engaged  as  teacher,  after  having  passed  the  Normal 
School  for  National  School-teachers  in  Stockholm,  and 
her  daughter  instructed  the  girls  in  sewing,  knitting,  and 
spinning.  My  sister  Hedda,  who  warmly  and  truly  appre- 
ciated the  practical  in  life,  superintended  this  department 
of  the  school,  and  saw  that  the  girls  were  taught  to  mend 
their  stockings,  and  patch  and  repair  their  clothes.  Every 
thing  went  on  excellently  in  this  school.  The  children 
were  industrious,  good,  and  very  anxious  to  attend  regu- 
larly. In  this  manner  it  was  carried  on  many  years,  until 
1842,  when  a  statute  was  passed  in  which  more  extended 
knowledge  was  required  as  a  condition  for  competent 
teachers  in  national  schools.  These  requirements  our 
teacher  could  not  fulfill.  A  good  and  clever  man  was  en- 


BIOGRAPHY.  89 

gaged  as  teacher  in  the  parish,  and  the  old  school  had  to 
break  up  for  want  of  a  sufficient  number  of  pupils  from  our 
estate.  But  one  consequence  of  this  change  was,  that  the 
instruction  in  handiworks,  so  useful  and  so  necessary  in 
female  education,  ceased ;  for  the  school-master  was  not 
bound  to  give  such  instruction.  Fredrika,  who  was  much 
interested  in  the  school,  which  she  had  helped  to  establish, 
was  exceedingly  sorry  for  this ;  and  when  she  heard  that  in 
the  neighboring  parish,  in  which  there  were  some  farms 
belonging  to  Arsta,  a  youth  of  only  eighteen  years  of  age 
had  been  engaged  as  teacher,  who  had  neither  judgment 
nor  patience  with  the  children,  but,  on  the  contrary,  taught 
them  what  was  bad,  she  was  very  urgent  that  only  women 
should  be  admitted  as  teachers  in  national  schools. 

That  such  would  be  the  case,  both  Fredrika  and  I 
hoped,  because,  from  what  we  had  seen  ourselves,  none  but 
a  woman  could  exert  a  motherly  influence  over  the  chil- 
dren, —  none  better  and  with  more  patience  correct  their 
faults,  make  them  obedient,  orderly,  and  cleanly,  which 
ought  to  be  the  first  object  in  educating  children.  And 
how  incalculably  must  the  good  moral  foundation  which 
these  female  teachers  ought  to  understand  how  to  lay,  in- 
fluence the  future  conduct  of  the  children  !  But  when 
this  change  was  to  take  place  we  could  not  guess.  As  late 
as  1842,  a  learned,  wise,  and  witty  bishop,  with  whom  Fre- 
drika and  I  spoke  on  this  subject  with  all  the  warmth  of 
conviction,  when  he  one  day  paid  a  visit  to  Arsta,  only  an- 
swered, "  They  won't  do  !  They  won't  do !  There  must 
be  male  teachers  in  the  schools  !  "  1  And  how  many,  both 
widows  and  unmarried  women,  might  earn  their  bread  in  a 
position  so  suitable  for  them,  where  they  could  labor  so 
beneficially  for  the  rising  generation  ! 

In  the  spring  of  1853  my  mother  fell  ill,  and  had  to  take 

1  Not  until  many  years  later,  in  1859,  a  statute  appeared,  that  what  had 
been  enacted  respecting  teachers  in  schools  should  apply  also  to  such 
women  whose  capability  had  been  tried  and  approved  in  the  Seminary  for 
Teachers  in  National  Schools. 


90  BIOGRAPHY. 

to  her  bed.  It  was  therefore  out  of  the  question  to  remove 
her  that  summer  to  Arsta,  and  consequently  Fredrika  re- 
mained in  town  in  order  to  keep  her  company  and  to  nurse 
her.  Her  illness,  with  an  occasional  temporary  improve- 
ment, lasted  two  years,  until  the  2d  of  March,  1855,  when 
my  mother,  after  much  suffering,  borne  with  Christian 
resignation,  departed  to  a  better  life. 

Fredrika,  who  was  never  slow  in  rendering  assistance, 
whenever  she  had  it  in  her  power,  devoted  to  the  promo- 
tion of  charitable  undertakings  of  greater  extent,  both  her 
personal  activity  and  the  power  which  she  possessed  of 
deeply  touching  with  her  words  all  human  hearts,  when 
she  wished  to  move  them  to  alleviate  the  distress  of  the 
suffering. 

When,  in  the  summer  of  1853,  the  cholera  broke  out  in 
Stockholm,  Fredrika  joined  a  society  of  noble-hearted 
women,  whose  president  she  became,  and  whose  aim  it  was 
to  take  charge  of,  and  procure  a  home  for,  those  children 
who  had  lost  their  parents  by  this  epidemic,  and  to  render 
assistance  to  those  poor  families  in  which  either  the  father 
or  the  mother  had  died  and  left  children. 

She  published  in  the  newspapers  an  invitation  to  a  sub- 
scription for  the  benefit  of  these  children  and  families,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  money  thus  collected 
amount  to  Rg.  26,000,  besides  contributions  which  were 
promised  to  be  continued  for  several  years.  It  was  ar- 
ranged for  the  orphans  that  the  society  should  take  the 
entire  charge  of  them,  until  they  had  been  confirmed,  and 
a  place  had  been  procured  for  them. 

In  the  winter  of  1855,  Fredrika  placed  herself  at  the 
head  of  a  small  association  of  ladies,  whose  object  it  was 
to  visit  the  prisons  of  the  metropolis.  This  object  was  ex- 
ceedingly good,  and  I  hope  that,  at  all  events,  some  of 
those  who  had  taken  the  first  steps  on  the  path  of  vice  and 
crime,  and  now  in  the  cells  of  the  prisons  had  leisure,  in 
silence  and  solitude,  to  meditate  on  what  had  been  said  to 


BIOGRAPHY.  91 

them,  returned,  after  undergoing  their  punishment,  to  the 
path  of  virtue.  The  greater  number  of  them  seemed  to 
be  sincerely  grateful  for  the  sympathy  shown  to  them,  and 
when  one  had  time  to  disentangle  their  notions  of  right 
and  wrong,  they  listened  with  sincere  repentance,  and  joy- 
fully, to  the  exhortations  to  confess  candidly  their  crimes, 
patiently  to  submit  to  the  punishment  inflicted  upon  them, 
and  then  to  endeavor  to  become  new  beings. 

O 

These  visits  were  continued  during  the  following  winter, 
when  Fredrika  was  residing  in  Stockholm.  The  hope  of 
having  effected  some  permanent  good  in  this  way  was, 
however,  more  than  once  disappointed ;  because  several  of 
those  for  whom  much  had  been  done,  and  for  whom,  after 
they  had  been  discharged  from  prison,  good  places  as  serv- 
ants had  been  procured,  returned  again  to  a  life  of  vice 
and  crime. 

Fredrika,  together  with  two  other  ladies  of  this  society, 
also  visited  the  large  penitentiary  for  women.  Those  who 
were  imprisoned  there  were  more  hardened  and  more  prac- 
ticed in  crimes ;  still  they  were  not  inaccessible  to  the  en- 
deavors made  with  gentleness  and  in  a  Christian  spirit,  to 
awaken  their  feelings  and  create  in  them  a  wish  to  repent. 

On  Fredrika's  visit  to  this  prison  on  New  Year's  Day, 
1856,  the  following  New  Year's  greeting  was  presented  to 
her  by  its  inmates  :  — 

"  Now  entering  on  another  year, 
E'en  with  its  course  our  hope  grows  clear, 
That  God  the  erring  keeps  in  mind, 
Though  worldly  judgments  are  unkind. 
With  moved  and  grateful  spirit 
Our  thanks  we  send  to  thee, 
Who  God's  good  pleasure's  pathway 
Hast  made  us  clearly  see. 
We  here  before  thy  feet  do  humbly  lay 
Our  New  Year's  greeting,  and  we  pray 
That  thou  our  words  will  not  despise, 
Though  they  from  captive  hearts  arise. 
May  health  and  joy  and  peace  in  full 
Be  with  thee  until  life  depart; 


92  BIOGRAPHY. 

When  thy  last  morning  greets  thy  sight, 
To  choirs  of  angels  take  thy  flight." 

Fredrika  likewise  devoted  her  pen  and  her  eloquence, 
during  the  last  years  of  her  life,  to  call  upon  society  to  col- 
lect money  for  the  benefit  of  several  charitable  institutions ; 
for  the  erection  of  dwellings  for  laborers,  for  which  a  con- 
siderable sum  was  gathered  ;  for  an  asylum  for  aged  fe- 
males, and  for  the  so-called  "  Silent  School "  for  deaf  and 
dumb  children,  and  for  several  other  institutions. 

After  reading  Alexandre  Vinet's  excellent  works,  Fre- 
drika longed  to  follow  more  attentively  on  the  spot  the 
religious  movement,  which  had  been  called  forth  in  Prot- 
estant Switzerland  by  the  "  Free  Church,"  of  which  Vinet 
was  the  founder.  This  occasioned  Fredrika's  journey  to 
Switzerland  in  the  summer  of  1856.  She  had  intended 
at  the  same  time  to  visit  Greece,  and  spend  a  year  in 
Athens.  I  did  all  I  could  to  dissuade  her  from  under- 
taking such  a  long  journey,  upon  which  she  proposed  to  set 
out,  as  usual,  quite  alone;  But  when  Fredrika  had  once 
got  an  idea  into  her  head,  it  must  be  realized. 

To  her  desire  of  knowledge,  was  now  also  added  a  cer- 
tain restlessness  of  temper,  a  longifig  for  change,  which, 
when  she  had  been  at  home  a  short  time  and  in  quietness, 
made  her  fancy  that  she  required  to  travel.  When  she  left 
Sweden  this  time,  she  had,  however,  no  idea  of  making 
such  a  long  journey  as  it  eventually  turned  out,  namely, 
during  five  years,  through  Switzerland,  Belgium,  France, 
Italy,  Palestine,  and  Greece.  While  travelling,  a  desire 
awoke  within  her,  and  opportunities  presented  themselves, 
to  visit  one  country  after  another.  Fredrika  returned 
home  in  the  summer  of  1861,  and  in  the  following  year 
she  again  visited  Germany.  But  this  was  the  last  journey 
which  she  made. 

Fredrika  was  permitted  to  live  to  see  four  important 
events  realized  at  which  her  heart,  always  warm  and  sym- 
pathizing for  all  progress  in  a  noble  and  good  direction,  felt 


BIOGRAPHY.  93 

the  sincerest  joy :  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  United 
States  of  America ;  a  law  passed  in  Sweden,  that  unmar- 
ried women  should  attain  their  majority  at  twenty-five  years 
of  age  ;  the  organization  in  Stockholm  of  a  seminary  for 
educating  female  teachers ;  and  the  parliamentary  reform 
in  Sweden,  carried  through  in  such  a  dignified  manner. 

It  was  more  especially  after  her  return  from  her  last 
journey  that  Fredrika  was  constantly  importuned,  not  only 
by  a  number  of  persons  who  wanted  to  beg  or  borrow 
money  of  her ;  by  authoresses  who  came  to  request  her  to 
read  through  and  improve  their,  for  the  most  part,  unim- 
provable writings  ;  but  also  by  both  men  and  women  who 
wanted  her  assistance  to  procure  employment  for  them. 
She  got  in  this  way  more  and  more  overrun  by  all  kinds 
of  people.  Frequently  poor  Fredrika  felt  very  unhappy 
that  it  was  not  in  her  power  to  assist  all  the  really  poor 
and  destitute  ;  but  she  assured  me  that  she  had  taught 
herself  to  say  "  No  ! "  with  the  greatest  coolness  to  persons 
who  were  perfect  strangers  to  her,  and  who  wanted  to  bor- 
\  row  of  her  both  large  and  small  sums  of  money. 

Fredrika,  while  she  was  residing  during  the  winters  in 
Stockholm,  had  been  in  the  habit  of  giving  small  evening 
parties,  sometimes  twice  a  week,  in  her  comfortable  little 
home,  to  which  a  few  friends  and  more  intimate  acquaint- 
ances were  invited.  But  she  had  now  become  tired  of 
these  soirees,  and  wished  to  live  henceforth  in  quiet. 

This  wish,  and  the  feeling  that  it  would  be  necessary  for 
her  to  flee  from  Stockholm,  in  order  to  escape  from  all 
those  who  came  to  ask  for  assistance,  and  almost  every  day 
occupied  her  time,  made  her  determine  to  remove  some 
miles  from  Stockholm  into  the  country,  and  thus  the 
thought  and  wish  arose  in  her  to  remove  to  Arsta,  which, 
since  the  autumn  of  1853,  had  not  belonged  to  our  family. 
Before  making  up  her  mind  to  stay  for  any  greater  length 
of  time,  she  wanted  first  to  try  how  she  would  find  herself 
there  under  these  altered  circumstances,  and  therefore  she 
spent  three  months  of  the  summer  of  1864  at  Arsta. 


94  BIOGRAPHY. 

On  her  return  to  town,  Fredrika  was  greatly  charmed 
with  the  patriarchal  family  who  were  now  the  owners  of 
our  former  paternal  estate,  and  she  had  vastly  enjoyed  the 
peace  and  quietness  in  which  she  had  lived  there.  She 
therefore  determined  to  remove  to  Arsta  the  following 
summer,  to  board  with  the  present  owners,  and  she  chose 
the  rooms  which  were  to  be  put  in  order  for  her.  Besides 
the  hope  of  the  rural  peace  which  she  would  enjoy  there, 
her  kind,  generous  heart  was  gladdened  when  she  thought 
that  by  this  change  she  would  save  a  considerable  portion 
of  her  annual  income,  to  give  away,  compared  with  what 
she  was  able  to  do  formerly,  while  living  in  Stockholm. 

In  the  spring  of  1865,  Fredrika  was  seized  with  a  severe 
attack  of  erysipelas,  and  until  the  month  of  July  she  had 
not  recovered  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  remove  to  Arsta ;  but 
there  she  soon  recovered  her  health  and  strength.  During 
the  visits  which  Fredrika,  later  in  the  summer,  paid  to  my 
husband  and  me  at  our  little  country-seat,  we  heard  with 
sincere  pleasure  that  she  found  herself  more^  happy  and 
contented  than  she  had  ever  felt  before  at  Arsta.  Her 
mind  was  also  now  at  ease ;  all  doubts  of  God's  goodness 
and  justice  had  vanished;  all  rebellious  feelings,  which  had 
been  awakened  in  her,  when  contemplating  the  unequal 
lots  on  earth,  were  silenced ;  and  when  we,  especially  on  her 
last  visit  to  us,  spoke  of  some  unhappy  people  whom  we 
knew  personally,  and  who  in  poverty  and  sickness  had  for 
years  been  suffering  great  bodily  pain,  I  found  Fredrika 
full  of  hope,  and  convinced  that  their  sufferings  here  below 
would  be  requited  in  a  double  measure  in  a  better  world. 
In  a  word,  I  had  never  before  seen  Fredrika  so  hopeful 
and  so  calm. 

I  cannot  better  paint  the  peaceful  state  of  her  mind  than 
by  quoting  her  own  beautiful  words,  written,  most  probably, 
at  the  close  of  her  life :  — 

"  No  longer  against  destiny  I  murmur ; 
The  Providence  of  God  I  clearly  see ; 


BIOGRAPHY.  95 

It  makes  itself  not  known  within  the  world's 

And  chance's  ever-shifting,  changing  forms, 

But  it  reveals  itself  in  hearts  of  mortals. 

And  thus  in  them  expressed  is  its  spirit: 

'  That  sons  of  earth  in  greatest  earthly  need 

May  then  on  "  bread  of  life  "  from  heaven  feed ; ' 

And  when  I  hear  them  tell  how  fate  ungentle 

Has  acted  'gainst  some  mortal  good  and  noble, 

Fate  is  to  me  a  darkling  cloud  no  more, 

A  cloud  which  hides  the  sun  of  light  and  beauty ; 

Praise  be  to  God !  I  know  now  how  it  is,  — 

I  know  that  in  the  sufferer's  meek  submission 

Lies  strength  concealed  to  feed  and  nourish  gladness ; 

I  know  that  in  the  martyr's  crown  of  thorns, 

When  borne  with  patience,  there  is  not  one  point, 

Which  or  in  time  or  in  eternity, 

Blooms  not  into  a  rose." 

Although  fully  prepared  and  joyfully  looking  forward  to 
a  better  life,  Fredrika  yet  believed  that  she  was  destined 
to  remain  longer  in  this  world,  in  which  she  fancied  that  a 
great  deal  still  remained  for  her  to  do,  while  leading  a  life 
full  of  love  for  mankind  and  wandering  in  the  paths  of  our 
Saviour :  to  help,  solace,  and  comfort  the  destitute,  the  suf- 
fering, the  unhappy,  the  abandoned,  who  from  all  quarters 
turned  to  her  for  assistance  and  consolation. 

But  this  belief  was  not  to  be  realized.  Although  Fre- 
drika, after  having  taken  up  her  abode  in  the  country,  had 
regained  health  and  strength,  she  yet  felt  a  something 
within  her  foreboding  the  great  removal,  —  arising  either 
from  the  prophetic  element  in  her  nature,  or  from  a  con- 
sciousness of  physical  decline ;  probably  from  both.  She 
communicated  her  thoughts  and  feelings  on  this  subject  to 
an  old  friend  in  Sweden  and  to  a  friend  in  America ;  but 
as  she  never  was  in  the  habit  of  paying  much  attention  to 
her  bodily  ailments  or  dangers  to  life  or  health,  she  did  not 
attach  any  particular  importance  to  these  forebodings,  not 
suspecting  that  the  solemn  hour  was  so  near. 

It  was  in  the  beginning  of  September  when  Fredrika, 
for  the  last  time,  visited  us  in  the  country.  On  the  30th 
of  December  we  received  two  letters  from  Arsta :  one,  a 


96  BIOGRAPHY. 

long  letter  to  my  husband,  dictated  by  Fredrika,  relating 
to  her  worldly  affairs,  in  which  she  told  us  that  she  had 
caught  cold  on  Christmas  Day,  after  having  attended  the 
morning  service  in  church;  but  that  she  now  felt  better, 
although  still  very  weak.  The  other  letter  was  from  the 
physician  who  had  been  called  in,  informing  us  that  Fre- 
drika was  suffering  from  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  and 
preparing  us  for  the  possibility  that  she  might  not  have 
strength  enough  to  go  through  this  serious  illness. 

My  husband  and  I  drove  out  at  once,  in  a  heavy  gale  of 
wind  and  rain,  to  Arsta.  On  our  arrival,  at  nine  o'clock  at 
night,  I  asked  Fredrika's  kind  hostess  to  prepare  her  cau- 
tiously for  our  arrival.  She  was  exceedingly  weak.  Alas ! 
I  saw  at  once  death  in  her  face.  She  was  glad  when  we 
entered  her  room,  and  said,  in  broken  accents,  "It  is  so 
kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  me  !  I  have  been  ill ;  have 
suffered  much  pain  ;  I  have  never  been  so  ill."  —  "  Do  you 
feel  yourself  better  now  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Yes,  much  better," 
she  answered.  After  a  little  while,  during  which  she 
seemed  to  have  fallen  into  a  short  slumber,  she  looked  up, 
saying,  "  Have  I  dreamt  that  my  sister  and  brother-in-law 
are  here  ?  "  We  again  approached  her  bedside  and  took 
her  hand,  while  we  said  a  few  loving  words  to  her.  Much 
talking  she  could  not  bear.  Again  her  mind  seemed  to 
wander  for  a  short  time  ;  when  again  she  looked  up,  she 
said  to  me,  "You  cannot  think  how  kind  and  attentive 
every  one  here  has  been  to  me ;  they  have  watched  over 
and  tended  me  in  the  most  kind  manner.  They  are  such 
excellent  people !  " 

It  did  my  heart  good  that  the  amiable  family  at  Arsta, 
who,  sorrowing,  surrounded  her  bed,  should  hear  from  her 
own  lips  these  expressions  of  gratitude. 

Shortly  after  Fredrika  had  said  these  words,  the  last 
earthly  struggle  began,  —  that  between  life  and  death,  — 
and,  thank  God  !  it  was  a  short  one,  although  painful,  last- 
ing about  an  hour,  after  which  all  consciousness  seemed  to 


BIOGRAPHY.  97 

be  gone,  and  Fredrika  peacefully  drew  her  last  breath,  at 
three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  last  day  of  the  year,  to 
awake  again  in  heaven. 

Happy  they  who  have  lived  as  she  had  done  !  they  are 
every  moment  ready  to  enter  into  the  mansions  of  the 
blessed. 

The  wind  had  gone  down,  the  sky  had  become  bright 
and  clear,  and  the  moon  lit  up  the  room  in  which  Fre- 
drika was  now  lying  quietly,  as  one  asleep. 

She  had  finished  her  earthly  career,  during  which*  she 
had  been  permitted  to  realize  the  dearest  wish  of  her 
youth,  —  to  live  for  the  sake  of  comforting,  consoling,  and 
relieving  her  suffering  fellow-men  ;  and  this  noble,  loving 
heart,  which  had  glowed  so  warmly  and  bravely  for  the 
light  of  truth  and  the  weal  of  humanity,  had  ceased  to 
beat.  Many  are  they  who  bless  her  memory  and  mourn 
her  loss.  The  following  day  we  got  a  detailed  account  of 
all  the  particulars  of  Fredrika's  last  illness.  Fredrika, 
whose  greatest  pleasure  it  was  to  give  pleasure  to  others, 
had,  on  Christmas  Eve,  invited  thirty  children  belonging 
to  the  families  of  the  farmers  and  laborers  on  the  estate. 
After  a  liberal  entertainment,  every  child  got  a  Christmas- 
box,  and  they  were  then  allowed  to  dance  round  a  beauti- 
fully decorated  Christmas-tree,  radiant  with  light.  Fre- 
drika danced  with  them,  and  taught  them  several  games  ; 
in  a  word,  she  over-exerted  herself,  and  went  to  bed  later 
than  usual.  On  Christmas  Day  she  drove  to  church.  After 
the  service  she  stood  for  some  time  in  the  church-yard 
conversing  with  several  people.  The  wind  was  high  and 
piercing,  and  it  is  supposed  that  it  was  then  she  caught 
cold.  She  was,  however,  well  and  cheerful  the  whole  day. 

During  the  night  she  was  taken  ill,  and  when  Mrs.  S g, 

her  hostess,  on  the  following  day,  wanted  to  send  for  a 
physician,  Fredrika  would  not  allow  it,  saying,  that  she 
knew  her  own  constitution  well,  and  that  if  she  did  not  get 
better  in  the  course  of  the  day,  she  would  then  take  some 
7 


98  BIOGRAPHY. 

of  her  small  homoeopathic  globules.  It  was  not  until  the 
fourth  day,  when  Fredrika  felt  herself  getting  worse,  that 
she  gave  permission  to  send  for  a  physician.  When  he 
arrived  and  found,  on  inquiry,  that  she  was  suffering  from 
a  severe  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  she  requested  that  her 
relatives  might  be  informed  of  her  illness.  She  did  not 
herself  imagine  that  there  was  any  danger ;  and,  notwith- 
standing increasing  pain  and  difficulty  in  breathing,  she 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  lie  down,  but  walked  about  even 
the  very  last  day  of  her  life,  exceedingly  restless,  moving 
from  one  place  to  another  in  her  large  drawing-room.  Her 
mind  was  as  usual,  always  calm  and  cheerful. 

To  her  young  nurse,  who  assisted  her  to  change  her 
position,  which  soothed  her  pains,  she  said :  "  It  would  be 
delightful  to  die  in  this  way,  without  pain ;  but  not  yet ;  I 
would  wish  to  finish  my  last  work.  And  you  know  it  is 
not  my  death-year,"  she  added,  alluding  to  a  dream  which 
she  had  had  several  years  before,  and  according  to  which 
she  ought  to  have  more  than  a  year  to  live.1  On  the 
<i  Friday  after,  she  went,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her  nurse, 
from  window  to  window  in  the  large  room  ;  and  it  seemed 
as  if  she  wanted  to  take  leave  of  the  surrounding  country 
which  she  loved  so  much.  Then  she  spoke  with  a  faint, 
scarcely  audible,  voice,  broken  sentences,  repeated  often : 
"  Light,  eternal  light ; "  and,  while  taking  her  nurse's  hands 
between  her  own,  she  said,  with  a  glorified  expression  in 
her  face :  "Ah !  my  child,  let  us  speak  of  Christ's  love,  — 
the  best,  the  highest  love  !  " 

My  husband  and  I  returned  later  in  the  day  to  town,  in 
order  to  make  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the  funeral. 
It  took  place  on  the  day  before  Twelfth  Night,  the  5th  of 

1  This  dream  had  made  such  an  impression  upon  Fredrika,  that  she 
really  believed,  and  often  mentioned  to  her  most  intimate  friends,  that  she 
would  live  to  be  sixty -six  years  and  two  months  old ;  which  age,  dying 
as  she  did,  at  a  little  more  than  sixty-four  years  old,  she  was  not  permit- 
ted to  reach. 


BIOGRAPHY.  99 

January,  1866.  Besides  the  Arsta  family,  the  clergyman 
and  his  wife,  and  a  few  of  the  neighbors,  only  our  nearest 
relatives,  and  two  elderly  gentlemen,  Fredrika's  old  friends, 
were  invited,  with  my  husband  and  myself,  to  accompany 
her  to  her  last  resting-place.  Some  people  from  town  had 
also  the  kindness  to  join  us. 

On  Fredrika's  birthday  the  previous  year,  while  she  was 
staying  at  Arsta,  her  kind  hostess,  with  her  daughters,  in 
order  to  afford  her  a  pleasure,  had  invited  to  coffee  all  the 
survivors  of  those  who,  during  my  parents'  time,  had 
served  on  the  estate.  When  they  had  assembled,  it  was 
found  that  these  old  faithful  servants  —  male  and  female 
included  —  numbered  twenty-four  in  all.  Now  the  male 
portion  of  them  were  invited,  and  they  were  to  carry  Fre- 
drika  to  the  church. 

The  beautiful  coffin  was  entirely  covered  with  garlands 
of  flowers,  sent  from  friends  in  Stockholm,  and  were  mixed 
with  those  which  we  and  the  invited  funeral  guests  had 
brought  out  from  town.  But  none  of  them  were  so  beauti- 
ful as  the  garland  sent  by  the  children  of  the  "  Silent 
School ; "  it  was  made  of  dazzling  white  camellias  and  the 
most  beautiful  feather-like  grass. 

On  one  of  the  plates  of  the  coffin  was  written :  — 

"FREDRIKA    BREMER: 

o 

Bora  at  Tuorla  Manor,  near  Abo,  in  Finland,  on  the  17th  August,  1801; 
Died  at  Arsta,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  31st  December,  1865. 

Beloved  and  regretted  by  all  who  knew  her,  she  leaves  after  her  only 
dear  and  loving  memories." 

On  the  other  plate  was  written :  — 

"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God." 

After  having  partaken  of  some  luncheon,  the  procession 
set  out  for  church,  where  we  were  met  by  a  number  of  young 
ladies  from  Stockholm,  amongst  whom  were  several  of  the 
teachers  from  the  Seminary,  who,  grateful  for  the  kindness 
and  friendly  favors  shown  them  by  Fredrika,  had  wished 


100  BIOGRAPHY. 

to  follow  her  to  the  grave.  The  coffin  was  placed  upon 
the  catafalque  before  the  altar,  covered  with  flowers.  The 
church  was  filled  with  country  people,  who  had  come  to 
witness  the  funeral,  and  who  all  seemed  to  be  deeply 
moved.  The  organ  pealed  forth  the  461st  psalm :  "  Oh, 
day  of  hope,  which  brightens  now,"  of  which  the  first, 
fifth,  and  eighth  verses  were  sung. 

Hereupon  the  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Mr.  L 11,  ap- 
proached the  coffin,  and  held  a  funeral  oration,  —  dig- 
nified, eloquent,  true,  and  delivered  with  deep  and  sincere 
emotion. 

After  the  ceremony,  the  452d  psalm  was  sung :  "  I  go 
towards  death  where'er  I  go ; "  and  then,  in  a  chorus  of 
young,  fresh  voices  :  "  Hosanna,  David's  Son  !  " 

The  old  servants  then  approached,  took  the  coffin,  and 
carried  it  to  the  grave,  into  which  it  was  lowered  under  a 
shower  of  flowers,  offered  with  sincere  tears  and  deep 
emotion  by  her  young  friends. 

At  the  head  of  the  grave,  shaded  by  two  lime-trees  with 
luxuriant  foliage,  stands  now  a  handsome  monument  of 
polished  granite,  with  a  cross  on  the  top.  On  the  pedestal 
is  engraved  in  golden  letters  :  — 

"  HERE   SLEEPS 

FREDRIKA  BREMER, 

BORN  17TH  AUGUST,  1801 ;  DIED  31sT  DECEMBER,  1865 ; " 
and  underneath,  according   to   Fredrika's   own  wish,  the 
following  words  of  Scripture  :  — 
"  When  I  cried  tinto  the  Lord,  He  delivered  me  out  of  all  my  trouble." 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


THE  first  word  which  my  infant  lips  uttered  in  this  sub- 
lunary world  was  "  Moon."  Eight  years  later  I  wrote  my 
first  verses,  "  A  la  lune."  My  first  juvenile  feelings,  so  far 
as  I  can  now  recollect,  were  immoderate  greediness  after 
sweetmeats,  and  likewise  an  immoderate  desire  to  distin- 
guish myself  and  be  spoken  of.  These  were  soon  suc- 
ceeded by  warmer  feelings  and  nobler  desires,  which  all 
wore  the  stamp  of  passion.  My  first  love  was  my  native 
country.  I  loved  it  as  Elizabeth  in  "  Sketches  of  Every- 
day Life."  In  the  description  which  she  gives  of  her  youth 
and  her  feelings,  I  have  portrayed  my  own.  By  degrees, 
as  my  intelligence  and  my  mind  became  developed  (both 
equally  warped  and  chaotic),  a  spirit  of  inquiry  was  also  de- 
veloped within  me  —  a  why  and  wherefore  —  which  none 
of  those  who  were  around  me  could,  or  cared  to,  answer  or 
enlighten.  My  education  was  of  a  very  desultory  kind. 
They  stuffed  my  head  full  of  fine  precepts  against  vanity, 
but  they  planted  vanity  itself  in  my  heart.  During  my 
endeavors  to  deaden  wild  sensations,  I  went  for  the  first 
time  to  the  Lord's  table.  An  atmosphere  of  innocence 
and  purity,  emanating  from  my  mother's  whole  being, 
breathed  round  my  home,  and  for  a  long  time  kept  aloof 
from  the  children's  souls  all  knowledge  of  evil ;  but  the 
desire  for  it  was,  unconscious  to  me,  slumbering  in  my  soul. 
Modesty,  in  its  widest  sense,  I  knew  not  But  I  had  an 
ardent  and  enthusiastic  feeling  for  all  heroic  virtues,  a 
boundless  capacity  to  love  and  to  sacrifice  myself  with  joy, 


102  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

in  small  things  as  in  great,  for  the  good  of  those  whom  I 
loved  ;  a  desire  to  give,  to  make  happy,  and  to  comfort. 
Yes,  if  I  could  have  done  it,  I  would  have  given  to  the 
hungry  the  flesh  of  my  own  body.  I  loved  my  mother 
most  tenderly  and  passionately,  and  longed,  above  every 
thing  else  in  the  world,  to  please  her.  I  failed  herein  com 
pletely.  I  walked  badly,  sat  badly,  stood  badly,  curtsied 
badly  ;  and  many  bitter  moments  this  cost  me,  because  my 
mother  wished  that  her  daughters  should  be  perfect,  as  the 
heroines  of  romance  are  perfect,  by  birth  and  nature. 
This,  of  course,  we  sincerely  wished  to  be,  but  to  me  Dame 
Nature  was  rather  unfriendly,  throwing  all  kinds  of  diffi- 
culties in  my  way.  None  of  those  who  surrounded  me  un- 
derstood how  to  guide  a  character  like  mine  to  good.  They 
tried  to  curb  me  by  severity,  or  else  my  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings were  ridiculed.  I  was  very  unhappy  in  my  early  youth, 
and,  violent  as  I  was  in  every  thing,  I  formed  many  plans 
to  shorten  my  life,  to  put  out  my  eyes,  &c.,  &c.,  merely  for 
the  sake  of  making  my  mother  repent  her  severity ;  but  all 
ended  in  my  standing  on  the  margin  of  the  lake,  looking 
down  into  the  water,  or  feeling  the  pricking  of  the  knife  in 
my  eyeball.  Unhappy  at  home,  because  I  was  a  restless, 
passionate  creature,  without  the  least  of  what  one  would  call 
tact,  my  soul  clung  ardently  to  the  events  of  the  outer  world. 
The  war  against  Napoleon  stirred  within  me  all  my  deepest 
feelings.  I  determined  to  flee  from  home,  to  proceed  to 
the  theatre  of  war,  which  I  imagined  would  be  an  easy 
matter,  and,  dressed  in  male  costume,  to  become  page  to 
the  Crown-Prince  (afterwards  King  Charles  XIV.),  who 
at  that  time  appeared  to  me  to  be  little  less  than  a  demi- 
god. I  entertained  these  plans  more  than  a  year,  until 
they  melted  away  slowly,  like  snow  in  water.  Gradually 
my  patriotic  and  warlike  feelings  were  lulled,  but  only  to 
make  room  for  new  ones  of  another  kind.  Religious  en- 
thusiasm and  the  most  worldly  coquetry  were  struggling 
within  me,  with  feelings  for  which  I  was  unable  fully  to  ac- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  103 

count,  but  which  seemed  to  burst  my  young  bosom,  and 
which  sometimes  filled  it  with  a  heaven  and  sometimes  with 
a  hell.  Like  two  all-consuming  flames,  the  desire  to  know 
and  the  desire  to  enjoy  were  burning  in  my  soul,  without 
being  satisfied  for  many  long  years.  The  mere  sight  of 
certain  words  in  a  book,  —  words  such  as  Truth,  Liberty, 
Glory,  Immortality,  —  roused  within  me  feelings  which 
vainly  I  would  try  to  describe.  I  wanted  in  some  way  or 
other  to  give  vent  to  and  express  the  same ;  and  I  wrote 
verses,  theatrical  pieces,  and  a  thousand  different  kinds  of 
essays ;  composed  music,  drew  and  painted  pictures,  some 
of  them  greater  trash  than  the  others.  I  was  brought  out 
into  the  world,  went  out  visiting,  went  to  evening  parties, 
balls,  and  concerts,  and  very  rarely  enjoyed  myself  any- 
where except  at  the  theatre,  and  there  my  soul  was  thrown 
into  a  state  of  topsy-turvy. 

My  nose,  naturally  large,  used  to  become  illuminated  in 
hot  places,  and,  I  had  almost  said,  become  double  its  ordi- 
nary size,  darkening  my  prospects  of  pleasure  and  of  ad- 
mirers, which  latter  it  kept  at  a  distance.  I  have  said  it : 
I  was  a  coquette,  and  I  became  more  and  more  a  coquette 
when  I  observed  that  I  found  favor  with  my  parents  in 
proportion  as  I  anywhere  or  in  any  thing  was  admired  by 
others.  In  company  I  frequently  behaved  in  a  ridiculous 
manner,  because  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  keep 
my  soul  or  my  body  quiet.  Thence  arose  fresh  troubles 
for  my  mother,  and  consequently  fresh  troubles  for  me. 
Du  reste,  my  vivacity  and  my  fraicheur,  which,  so  long 
as  it  did  not  concentrate  itself  into  my  nose,  was  rather 
pretty,  procured  me  admirers  and  flatterers,  when  we  hap- 
pened to  be  in  any  place  of  public  entertainment.  This 
was  a  consolation  to  us  both,  namely,  to  my  mother  and  to 
myself.  A  young  gentleman,  betrothed  to  the  daughter  of 
the  oldest  friend  of  my  parents,  came  one  day  to  pay  them 
a  visit.  He  was  exceedingly  handsome,  full  of  vigor  and 
life.  I  saw  him  for  a  couple  of  hours  and  —  became  en- 


104  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

chanted.  During  a  fortnight  I  felt  the  arrow  sticking  in 
my  heart;  then  it  dropped  out.  Another  young  gentle- 
man, nowise  handsome,  but  rich,  saw  me  a  couple  of  hours, 
while  I  was  paying  a  visit,  and  —  he  fell  in  love  with  me. 
With  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  he  whispered  to  me  his 
agony.  He  tried  to  get  an  introduction  to  our  family,  but 
the  door  was  forcibly  shut  against  him  by  my  father,  who 
willingly  would  have  got  all  his  daughters  married,  but  who 
never  could  tolerate  the  face  of  a  suitor  in  his  house.  I 
was  then  seventeen  years  old,  read  Madame  Le  Prince  de 
Beaumont's  works,  and  determined  never  to  marry.  From 
this  time  forth  there  was  for  me  a  vacuum  of  suitors  and 
lovers  until  1820,  when  I  was  twenty.  N.  B. — It  was  fortu- 
nate, for  the  keeping  of  my  word,  that  during  this  time  no 
suitor  appeared  to  put  my  word  to  the 'test.  Meanwhile  I 
had  improved  somewhat  in  my  gait,  in  sitting,  in  curtsey- 
ing, and  got  my  person  a  little  more  into  shape  ;  got  the 
name  of  being  witty  ;  had  less  love  for  and  more  favor  with 
my  mother.  I  understood  better  how  to  agree  with  people, 
and  to  suit  myself  to  them.  I  had,  moreover,  begun  to  ac- 
quire a  certain  quantity  of  every-day  wisdom  and  common 
sense,  which  made  people  entertain  some  hope  respecting 
my  understanding,  the  doubts  and  questions  of  which  I 
tried  to  stifle  as  vain  fermentations.  In  1820  1  accom- 
panied my  mother  and  sisters  to  a  watering-place.  It 
was  during  the  third  term  of  the  season,  and  we  were 
therefore  alone.  A  very  amiable  and  chivalrous  elderly 
gentleman  and  his  wife,  residing  in  the  neighborhood,  did 
all  they  could  to  make  our  stay  as  agreeable  as  possible. 
They  had  a  son,  a  young,  gay,  good,  and  handsome  lieuten- 
ant. He  began  to  sigh  for  me,  and  I  began  to  warm  a 
little  for  him.  It  was  a  pastoral  moment,  when  once,  "  in 
the  green  fields,"  I  was  wiping  and  scraping  some  tar  off 
one  of  my  shoes,  and  when  he,  with  half  words  and  sighs 
—  well,  nothing  more  came  of  it.  We  left  at  last,  and  he 
accompanied  us  to  the  nearest  town.  I  remember,  not 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  105 

without  a  pleasant  sensation,  this  first  silent,  friendly  har- 
mony of  my  soul  with  another's.  We  parted.  I  gave  him 
a  carnation  and  a  curl-paper,  and  he  gave  me  a  few  sprigs 
of  lavender.  I  cried  the  whole  night  after  our  parting, 
and  for  a  long  time  afterwards  I  sighed  his  name  in  my 
heart,  but  very  calmly. 

In  order  to  please  my  parents,  I  had  labored  very  hard 
to  get  used  to  household  duties.  I  succeeded,  because  I 
had  then,  as  now,  a  very  strong  will,  although  I  rarely 
understood  how  to  give  it  the  proper  direction.  I  also 
worked  and  labored  hard  at  my  piano,  and  rose  at  four  in 
the  mornings,  merely  for  the  purpose  of  playing  the  scales. 
I  wrote  theatrical  pieces  in  honor  of  every  birthday  in  the 
family  ;  arranged  small  fetes,  and  began  to  flatter  the  heads 
of  the  family  in  a  delicate  manner ;  in  a  word,  I  became  a 
complete  courtier,  and  rose  with  my  parents  to  the  rank  of 
favorite.  By  means  of  this  favoritism,  I  wished,  however, 
to  get  an  opportunity  of  serving  my  sisters,  and  I  succeeded 
sometimes,  but  not  often.  Nowhere  have  I  seen  so  many 
impossibilities  for  every  thing,  except  for  very  long  journeys, 
as  in  our  house.  I  wrote  during  this  time  some  humorous 
and  some  tragic  pieces,  which  I  believe  gave  promise  of 
something  better ;  but  nobody  cared  to  take  the  trouble  of 
trying  to  develop  this  promise.  I  had  no  idea  of  being 
able  by  industry  to  make  something  of  myself  in  the  way 
of  intellect  and  knowledge. 

All  my  actions  during  many  years  were  devoid  of  plan 
or  order.  In  1821  we  worked  through  our  continental 
trip,  and  journeyed  in  covered  carriages,  and  "  toiled  on 
our  weary  way"  through  Germany,  Switzerland,  France, 
and  the  Netherlands.  For  all  the  treasures  of  this  world, 
aye,  even  for  the  genius  of  Tegner,  I  would  not  again  make 
this  journey  in  the  same  way.  I  will  only  speak  of  the 
suffering  which  more  particularly  fell  to  my  share.  The 
desire  for  knowledge  and  the  desire  for  enjoyment  were 
reawakened  within  me  a  new,  all-consuming  fire,  at  the 
sight  of  the  masterpieces  of  Nature  and  of  Art. 


106  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I  suffered  like  Tantalus.  Within  a  year  we  had  returned 
to  our  quiet  home  in  the  north.  Then  began  for  us  a  life, 
the  heaviness  and  torture  of  which  it  would  be  vain  to  at- 
tempt to  paint.  Our  home  became  to  us  a  prison,  compared 
with  which  a  real  prison  would,  so  it  appeared  to  me,  have 
been  a  delicious  retreat.  We  saw  nobody  in  our  house, 
and  those  whom  we  saw  in  the  houses  of  others  were  un- 
kind and  unfriendly  to  us  on  account  of  our  foreign  jour- 
ney, and  on  account  of  the  airs  which  people  fancied  we 
wanted  to  give  ourselves.  Year  after  year  a  heavier  and 
darker  cloud  lowered  itself  over  my  home,  and  still  more 
over  my  soul.  Gradually  all  illusions  vanished.  With  a 
soul  infinitely  lively  and  active,  I  found  myself  shut  out 
from  all  activity.  If  a  charitable  hand  had  then  pointed 
out  to  me  the  road  to  light  and  future  usefulness,  through 
cultivation  of  my  intellect  and  a  judicious  division  of  the 
time  to  be  devoted  to  this  purpose,  —  oh !  then  so  many 
years  would  not  have  rolled  past  me  like  zeroes,  and  I 
would  have  borne  better  every  day's  bitterness  and  pain. 
But  my  soul  was  still,  as  it  were,  in  its  swaddling  clothes. 
I  read  heaps  of  novels  ;  they  awakened  within  me  a  longing 
for  happiness  and  love,  which  could  not  be  realized.  I 
read  large  quantities  of  sermons,  which  did  not  make  me 
a  bit  better  or  less  unhappy.  I  played  the  piano,  and  occu- 
pied myself  in  one  way  or  other,  but  more  and  more  list- 
lessly. I  waited  for  a  turn  in  events,  in  order  to  enter  into 
activity,  but  no  such  events  happened.  Embroidering  an 
interminable  gray  neckerchief,  I  became  more  and  more 
benumbed,  that  is  to  say,  in  my  vital  powers,  in  my  desire 
to  live.  The  sense  of  pain  did  not  become  benumbed  ;  it 
became,  on  the  contrary,  more  sharp  every  day,  like  the 
frost  in  a  steadily  increasing  winter.  The  flame  in  my  soul 
was  flickering  fearfully,  and  wanted  only  one  thing  —  to  be 
extinguished  forever.  My  sisters  suffered  with  me ;  they 
suffered  in  me  and  I  in  them.  During  the  common  sor- 
rows of  our  continental  journey,  we  had  become  sincerely 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  107 

and  closely  united.  During  the  common  sufferings  of  our 
domestic  life,  we  became  still  more  tenderly  united ;  and 
under  affliction  and  tears  those  ties  were  knit  which  noth- 
ing can  make  stronger,  which  nothing  can  tear  asunder, 
and  which  are  now  the  chief  source  of  my  life's  happiness. 
Years  rolled  past,  and  every  thing  remained  in  the  same 
state  ;  physical  pains,  caused  by  inward  pains,  seized  me  ;  an 
eruption  covered  my  face  ;  my  eyes  became  yellow.  I  felt, 
both  in  body  and  soul,  a  sense  of  the  utmost  discomfort,  a 
kind  of  frost,  a  sensation  as  if  I  was  becoming  mouldy.  I 
had  a  fear  and  horror  of  people  looking  at  me.  My  posi- 
tion, with  respect  to  them  and  to  myself,  was  insupportable. 
The  fate  of  women  in  general,  and  my  own  in  particular, 
appeared  to  me  to  be  frightful.  I  saw  assurance  and  cour- 
age in  men's  looks ;  heard  them  express  openly  their 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  I  —  was  doomed  to  silence,  to 
live  without  life.  I  was  conscious  of  being  born  with  pow- 
erful wings,  but  I  was  also  conscious  of  their  being  clipped, 
and  I  fancied  that  they  would  always  remain  so.  I  saw 
that  I  was  disagreeable  and  repugnant  in  the  eyes  of  others, 
and  I  felt  that  it  could  not  be  otherwise,  for  I  was  dissatis- 
fied with  myself,  with  my  inward  and  outward  being. 

But  during  all  this  suffering,  a  certain  strength  was 
called  into  life  within  me.  My  glance  penetrated  deeply 
into  the  dark  mysteries  of  human  life  ;  I  understood  every 
thing  called  suffering ;  and  in  my  own  name,  and  in  that 
of  all  unhappy  beings,  I  raised  a  painful  and  rebellious 
cry  to  Heaven  :  — 

My  cheek  was  pale,  my  eyes  were  running  o'er 
With  bitter  tears ;  my  heart,  in  desolation, 

Saw  suffering,  like  a  vast  and  rankling  sore, 
Prey  on  the  vitals  of  God's  fair  creation. 

I  looked  for  dawn,  —  I  found  but  nightly  gloom, 
No  hope  of  happier  days,  no  blessed  faith ; 

Life  turned  like  some  wild  meteor  on  a  tomb 
In  my  sad  heart,  —  I  only  prayed  for  death. 


108  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Now  I  stood  in  need  of  faith ;  now  I  stood  in  need  of 
religious  comfort  Wildly  impatient,  I  prayed  for  it ;  my 
agony  remained  the  same.  Exasperated,  I  turned  away 
my  looks  from  heaven  and  asked,  with  my  eyes  riveted 
upon  the  night  of  human  misery,  a  shuddering  wherefore  ? 
No  voice,  either  from  heaven  or  from  earth,  returned  an 
answer  ;  my  faith  and  my  hope  were  shaken  in  their  deep- 
est foundations.  Every  thing  was  tottering ;  I  doubted, 
I  despaired,  and  now  I  understood  —  hell.  I  suffered  so 
deeply,  so  dreadfully,  but  at  the  same  time  so  quietly,  that 
just  thereby  I  felt  a  kind  of  superiority  over  other  people; 
because,  during  this  suffering,  I  became  so  good,  so  gentle, 
that  I  would  willingly  have  suffered  still  more  to  save  the 
most  insignificant  insect  a  pang.  And  I  knew  nobody  so 
good  as  I.  God  —  may  He  forgive  my  weakness  this  irrev- 
erence or  blindness  —  permitted  this  suffering.  Man  hum- 
bled me,  because  I  was  a  kind  of  Lazarus,  at  any  rate  in 
my  own  imagination ;  but  I  overlooked  mankind ;  in  my 
soul  raged  giant  agony.  I  felt  that  I  could  suffer,  and  that 
I  suffered  more  than  others. 

Although  at  this  time  I  should  have  found  it  easy  to 
achieve  any  great  and  noble  action,  even  at  the  sacrifice 
of  my  life ;  yet  I  must  in  truth  confess,  that  on  the  other 
hand,  I  have  never  looked  upon  crime  and  vice  with  so 
little  abhorrence  as  then,  and  it  is  only  Him,  who  rules 
events  and  circumstances,  to  whom  I  ascribe  the  innocence 
of  my  actions.  One  thing  only  afforded  me  some  consola- 
tion during  this  long  time  of  suffering,  and  this  was  paint- 
ing. Seated  at  my  easel,  I  frequently  forgot,  for  hours 
together,  my  agony  and  the  bitterness  of  my  life ;  and  in 
creating  the  beautiful  with  my  pencil,  I  found  therein  con- 
solation for  not  being  able  to  re-create  myself,  for  I  was 
ever  weak  for  beauty.  In  order  to  find  pecuniary  means 
for  assuaging  affliction  which  made  my  heart  bleed  to  hear 
mentioned,  I  tried  to  earn  money  with  my  paintings.  I 
painted  little  portraits  of  the  Crown-Princess,  whom  I  had 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  109 

seen  in  the  theatre ;  painted  that  of  the  King ;  sold  them 
in  secret,  and  within  a  year  I  earned  nearly  two  hundred 
rix  dollars.  To  employ  this  sum,  afforded  me  for  the  mo- 
ment a  healing  balm. 

My  sister  Agatha  had  finished  the  orthopedic  treatment, 
which  she  had  gone  through  in  Paris,  and  returned  home 
in  the  summer  of  1826.  She  scarcely  knew  me  again,  so 
much  had  I  become  altered  in  two  years.  It  was  decided 
that  she,  my  sister  Hedda,  and  myself  should  remain  in 
the  country,  in  order  to  continue  Agatha's  treatment.  We 
were  allowed  to  remain  there  alone  with  an  old  French 
lady  as  a  chaperon. 

My  sister  Charlotte  accompanied  my  parents  to  town  in 
the  autumn.  These  sisters  were  and  are  good,  gentle,  pa- 
tient, and  pure  beings,  —  beings,  whom  nothing  in  the 
world  could  tempt  to  deviate  from  what  they  consider  vir- 
tuous and  right.  My  life  now  gained  outward  peace,  but 
severe  bodily  suffering,  toothache,  and  rheumatism  in  the 
head,  together  with  the  chaotic  state  of  my  soul,  prevented 
me  from  enjoying  this  peace.  By  degrees  there  awoke 
within  me  an  intensely  deep  desire  for  improvement  of,  and 
for  conciliation  with,  my  better  self.  I  did  not  hope  to 
arrive  at  light  and  truth  until  after  death,  that  dear,  longed- 
for  dawn  of  a  better  life. 

So  it  appeared  to  me  in  my  calmer  moments.  In  the 
country  around  me,  near  and  far,  there  were  many  poor 
and  sick.  1  became  their  physician,  nurse,  and  helper,  as 
far  as  I  had  it  in  my  power.  I  felt  an  intense  pleasure  in 
exposing  myself  to  and  braving  cold,  tempests,  snow- 
storms, even  hunger ;  because  the  food  which  I  took  with 
me  on  my  excursions  I  gave  away.  Battling  with  Nature's 
roughness,  I  felt  with  delight  the  moral  strength  of  my 
being.  I  submitted  joyously  to  the  most  loathsome  med- 
ical employments.  My  bodily  feelings  were  disgust,  my 
mental  feelings  were  delight  at  suffering  in  order  to  soothe 
and  heal.  I  denied  myself  all  kinds  of  comforts,  in  order 


110  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to  give  them  to  others.  In  a  word,  I  was  during  two  years 
a  Catholic  enthusiast,  but  became,  in  the  mean  time,  a  bet- 
ter, purer,  more  virtuous  being  than  I  had  been  before.  I 
studied  the  Bible  assiduously.  I  was  often,  very  often,  on 
my  knees  ;  yes^  rose  in  the  night  to  pray  for  light  and 
peace.  A  breath  of  the  celestial  children's  wings  fanned 
now  and  then  my  heart.  The  fruit  of  such  a  moment  is 
the  passage  in  "  The  Solitary  One,"  beginning  with  "  Now 
is  peaceful,  blessed  rest,"  &c.,  &c.  I  had  indeed  moments 
of  inexpressible  happiness  ;  but  my  feelings,  like  billows, 
rose  -and  fell ;  I  felt  no  settled  calm.  A  warm  feeling  of 
piety  filled  my  soul.  My  doubts  were  not  solved,  but  I  had 
faith  and  hope  ;  I  had  a  measureless  love  for  all  sufferers ; 
for  all  who  were  in  affliction ;  for  all  unhappy  ones.  To 
exercise  this  love  unwaveringly,  during  the  whole  remain- 
der of  my  life,  became  my  sole  wish,  and  I  made  the  firm 
determination,  that,  as  soon  as  I  should  become  my  own 
mistress,  I  would  enter  a  hospital  as  a  "  Sister  of  Charity," 
and  devote  my  days  to  tending  the  sufferers  of  the  poorer 
classes,  little  caring  for  what  the  world  or  my  own  family 
would  say  of  it ;  —  so  little  was  at  that  time  the  right  appli- 
cation of  the  "  principle  of  usefulness  "  understood  by  me. 
With  my  soul  full  of  the  determination  to  devote  my  life 
to  God  in  this  way,  I  drove  one  Sunday,  a  gloomy  winter's 
day,  alone  to  church,  in  order  to  consecrate  myself,  as  it 
were,  to  a  new  life  by  taking  the  Sacrament.  I  remember 
still,  with  a  feeling  of  pleasing  melancholy,  how  I  was 
sitting  alone  in  my  pew,  shivering  with  cold,  while,  with  a 
calm  pleasure  in  my  soul,  I  contemplated  the  altar-piece, 
representing  the  Resurrection,  and  heard  how  the  congre- 
gation, one  by  one,  with  heavy  footsteps  walked  up  the  aisle 
and  entered  the  pews.  All  of  a  sudden  the  sun  shone  out 
brightly,  and  threw  his  life-giving  rays  upon  me.  They 
continued  during  the  whole  service  to  warm  me  gently,  and 
with  blissful  tears  I  felt  this  as  a  blessing  from  Heaven. 
At  the  foot  of  the  altar,  I  laid  down  the  offering  of  my 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  Ill 

whole  life,  but  found,  during  the  holy  act  and  after  it,  my 
feelings  to  be  less  warm  than  I  had  wished.  However, 
every  thing  now  became  better  than  it  had  been  previously. 
I  imagined  that  I  had  closed  my  accounts  with  the  world ; 
the  desire  for  its  life  and  enjoyments  was  extinguished 
within  me.  My  soul  became  pure  and  at  the  same  time 
true.  My  incessant  activity  gave  me  a  delightful  con- 
sciousness of  being  here  in  this  world  a  consoling  atom. 
In  consequence  of  frequent  and  fatiguing  exercise  in  the 
open  air,  my  body  became  invigorated,  my  blood  flowed 
more  freely,  my  health  improved. 

One  day,  about  the  end  of  March,  I  walked  across  snow- 
covered  fields  just  as  the  sun  was  setting ;  the  tear  of  grati- 
tude and  joy  of  one,  to  whom  I  had  just  then  given  comfort, 
had  fallen  like  balm  upon  my  heart.  I  had  been  walking 
very  fast  to  avoid  coming  home  in  the  twilight,  and  I  had 
stopped  a  moment  to  recover  breath  and  to  inhale  the 
mild,  pure  air.  I  stood  still,  with  my  eyes  turned  to  where 
the  sun  was  sinking  in  a  flood  of  purple  and  golden  glory 
beneath  the  western  sky.  Then  came  thence  towards  me, 
sweeping  across  the  wide  expanse  of  snow,  a  breath  of  air 
delicious  and  full  of  a  foretaste  of  spring.  I  drank  in  its 
life-giving  freshness  with  body  and  soul.  I  collected  my 
excited  feelings  to  more  calmness,  looked  round,  and 
turned,  with  full  consciousness  of  the  state  of  my  being,  my 
thoughts  upon  myself,  with  this  question  :  Would  I  now 
wish  to  die  ?  For  the  first  time  during  many  years,  I  felt 
that  I  could  answer,  No !  Oh,  moment  of  immeasurable 
delight !  Now  awoke  within  me  the  hope  of  a  resurrection 
to  happiness  even  on  earth,  —  a  hope,  which  has  not  been 
deceived,  but  which  has  been  beautifully  realized. 

During  this  period  of  my  life,  a  rather  unusual  circum- 
stance contributed  to  give  my  mind  a  new  direction.  A 
noble-hearted  and  estimable  lady,  who  then  learnt  to  know 
me  in  my  outward,  and  partly  also  in  my  inward,  life,  con- 
ceived for  me  a  friendship  which  amounted  almost  to  a 
real  passion. 


112  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

She  was,  and  is  still,  one  of  the  few  friends  whom  'God 
has  given  me,  and  to  whom  I  can  say :  "  Go,"  and  she 
goes  ;  "  come,"  and  she  comes  ;  "  do  this,"  and  she  does  it. 
I  felt  that  it  was  only  through  the  ennobling  of  my  own 
being  that  I  had  gained  this  power  over  her,  and  I  rose 
accordingly  still  more  in  my  own  estimation.  To  describe 
all  my  own  feelings  would  be  impossible.  There  is  some- 
thing so  gigantic  and  so  full  of  the  infinite  in  every  deep 
feeling  which  fills  my  soul,  that  words  cannot  express  it. 
A  medical  treatment,  which  I  prescribed  for  myself  during 
this  time,  contributed  essentially  to  restore  the  equilibrium 
of  my  whole  being,  and  to  make  me  find  some  comfort  in 
myself.  I  bathed  frequently  in  lukewarm  water,  which 
had  an  inexpressibly  beneficial  effect  upon  me ;  and  I  was 
repeatedly  bled.  This  drew  from  my  poor  head  the  quan- 
tity of  blood  which  used  to  rush  into  it,  and  which  caused 
all  my  uneasiness.  At  last  I  applied  a  seton  to  each  arm. 
They  made  the  eruption  in  my  face  disappear,  and  drew 
out  of  my  body  the  humors  which  had  accumulated  therein 
for  years.  My  complexion  became  clear,  and  I  became 
bodily  like  one  new-born. 

During  the  last  winter  which  I  spent  alone  in  the  coun- 
try, I  wrote  the  first  volume  of  the  "  Sketches  of  Every- 
day Life."  It  afforded  me  pleasure  ;  but  I  felt,  while  try- 
ing to  produce  something  as  an  authoress,  how  very  chaotic 
was  my  whole  world  of  imagination,  and  I  had  no  idea  that 
within  me  could  lie  any  talent  in  that  way.  The  chief 
motive  for  having  my  little  book  printed,  was  the  hope  of 
getting  a  little  money  to  assist  the  poor  in  the  country. 
When  my  brother  August  wrote  to  me  from  Upsala  that 
Mr.  Palmblad,  the  publisher,  was  willing  to  pay  for  it  one 
hundred  rix  dollars,  my  sisters  and  I  danced  with  delight. 

I  now  accompanied  Agatha  to  town  to  spend  the  winter 
there.  I  had  determined  to  go  nowhere,  and  obtained  at 
last  permission,  although  with  infinite  difficulty,  to  live 
quietly. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  113 

I  had  of  late  read,  and  was  still  reading,  several  good 
books,  which  in  some  measure  reconciled  me  to  my  suffer- 
ings on  earth,  by  showing  me  their  unavoidableness  and 
their  aim.  Herder's  "Ideen"1  made  a  deep  and  soothing 
impression  upon  me.  When  I  came  to  town  with  my  im- 
proved complexion  and  my  calmer  soul,  I  found,  as  a  vis- 
itor in  my  parents'  house,  a  distant  relative,  with  arms  and 
crest  on  his  seal,  with  a  major's  title,  and  an  estate  in  the 
country.  Honest  soul !  I  listened  patiently  to  his  La- 
ponic  French ;  played  to  him,  "  Welcome,  O  moon,  my 
ancient  friend ; "  and  got  from  him  an  offer  of  his  heart 
and  hand,  his  crest,  and  his  estate  in  the  country.  My 
family  agreed  perfectly  with  me  in  giving  him  a  friendly 
refusal. 

I  made  also  the  acquaintance  of  another  gentleman,  who 
inspired  me  with  a  pure  and  warm  feeling,  which,  although 
it  was  never  responded  to,  yet  had  a  powerful  influence 
upon  my  development,  and  which  still  lives  silently  and 
ennobling  in  my  heart. 

During  the  summer  of  1829, 1  wrote,  encouraged  by  an 
occasional  eulogy  on  my  little  book,  the  second  volume  of 
my  "  Sketches." 

The  better  feelings  which  I  had  experienced,  I  ex- 
pressed to  a  certain  extent  in  "  The  Solitary  One,"  and  in 
"  The  Consoler."  That  kind  of  humor  which  is  found  in 

"  The  H Family  "  was,  until  then,  entirely  unknown 

to  me,  and  the  discovery  of  it  in  me  was  quite  unexpected. 
It  was  first  shown  in  a  small  sketch  written  during  the 
previous  winter,  "  Christmas  in  Sweden." 

The  following  winter  my  father's  long  and  last  illness 

began.  Towards  the  spring,  I  offered  to  H ,  the 

printer  in  Stockholm,  my  manuscript  of  the  second  volume 
of  my  "  Sketches."  He  was  at  first  willing  to  receive  it ; 
but,  after  having  had  it  some  time  for  perusal,  he  refused 
to  print  it  or  to  pay  any  thing  for  it.  Then  my  opinion  of 

1  Herder's  Ideen  zur  Philotophie  der  Geschichle  der  Mensdtheit. 
8 


114  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

my  talent  as  an  authoress  received  a  heavy  blow  indeed. 
Nevertheless,  I  had  my  manuscript  offered  to  my  former 
publisher,  Mr.  Palmblad,  who  at  once  undertook  to  print 
it  in  the  course  of  the  summer.  Meanwhile  we  nursed 
and  watched  over  my  father.  It  did  me  good  to  tend  him 
and  to  watch  over  him  during  his  last  long  suffering,  borne 
with  heroic  fortitude.  He  seemed  to  improve  a  little,  and 
we  went  with  him  to  live  at  a  place  in  the  environs  of  the 
town.  There  he  enjoyed  for  a  few  days  the  summer  air, 
but  soon  got  worse,  and  died  calmly,  with  my  mother  and 
sisters  surrounding  his  bed.  It  was  a  comfort  to  see  him 
at  rest  after  a  troubled  life ;  a  comfort  to  shed  tears  of 
reconciliation  upon  his  cold  hand  and  forehead. 

Shortly  afterwards  we  removed  to  Arsta,  where  we  led  a 
quiet,  retired  life.  In  October  the  second  volume  of  my 
book  made  its  appearance,  and  I  soon  reaped  a  rich  har- 
vest of  eulogia  and  compliments  from  all  quarters. 

Charlotte's  wedding  was  celebrated  on  the  7th  of  No- 
vember. This  was  one  of  the  happiest  days  which  I  have 
spent  in  our  family. 

The  presence  of  Franzen  ;  his  verses  to  me  ;  Charlotte's 
happy  and  joyous  state  of  mind,  contributed  to  make  this 
day  a  bright  spot  in  my  life.  But  the  whole  of  this  time 
was  full  of  happiness  and  innocent  joy  in  our  home. 
Charlotte's  departure  caused  me  much  pain. 

Soon  after,  we  moved  to  Stockholm,  and  I  now  passed 
a  winter  which,  in  many  respects,  was  rich  and  full  of  im- 
portance to  me.  I  got  a  great  deal  of  praise  and  distinc- 
tion for  my  book.  The  Swedish  Academy  awarded  me  a 
gold  medal,  accompanied  by  a  very  flattering  letter.  I  had 
now  what  I  had  so  warmly  coveted  in  my  early  youth,  — 
distinction  ;  and  now  it  gave  me  but  little  pleasure ;  nay, 
I  felt  frequently  even  cold  and  indifferent  to  it  all. 

But  at  this  time  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Fran- 
ces L ,  and,  through  her,  of  Bentham.  She  showed 

me  that  the  more  knowledge  I  could  acquire,  —  the  more 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  115 

clearness  and  perspicuity  to  which  I  could  train  my  intel- 
lect, —  the  greater  would  become  my  means  to  labor  for 
the  benefit  of  mankind,  and  to  become  happy  myself. 
Bentham  gave  me,  in  his  "  Principles  of  Utility,"  a  new 
light,  and  at  the  same  time  I  had  an  opportunity  of  fre- 
quently conversing  with  distinguished  and  highly  intelli- 
gent people.  A  new  world  opened  within  me ;  I  beheld  a 
new  sun,  and  in  his  light  a  paradise.  My  happiness  at  this 
new  resurrection  within  me  was  inexpressible.  My  old 
plans,  to  which  I  had  hitherto  adhered,  fell  to  the  ground. 
I  soon  saw  the  road  which  I  ought  to  follow.  Oh,  delight ! 
Now  I  would  and  I  could  rise  higher  and  higher  to  light 
and  truth,  and  every  one  of  my  steps  would  bring  with  it 
some  fruit  for  my  fellow-men.  My  soul  rejoiced. 

Letters  arrived  about  this  time  ;  one  for  my  mother  and 
one  for  me.  The  young  gentleman,  who  therein  offered  me 
his  hand  and  heart,  spoke  with  such  warm  sincerity,  good- 
ness, and  real  excellence  of  soul,  and  with  so  much  candor 
and  openness  of  himself,  that  I  was  deeply  touched  by  it. 
I  felt  no  aversion  for  him ;  but  I  did  not  wish  to  marry. 
By  the  refusal  which  I  gave,  I  considered  that  I  had  for- 
ever placed  a  barrier  between  myself  and  marriage.  I  did 
not  fear  that  the  fulfillment  of  my  duties  as  a  wife  and  a 
mother  would  not  be  my  chief  aim  if  I  entered  into  the 
married  state ;  but  it  became  clear  to  me  that  my  mission 
as  an  authoress  would  then  become  totally  neglected,  be- 
cause I  knew  and  I  felt  that  one  cannot  unite  these  two 
vocations  without  failing  in  both  ;  while  by  devoting  myself 
exclusively  to  the  latter,  —  that  of  an  authoress,  —  I  be- 
lieved that  I  could  make  myself  as  useful  as  my  power  ad- 
mitted. 

The  third  volume  of  my  "  Sketches,"  which  I  wrote  in 
the  winter  of  1831,  in  a  hurry-skurry,  appeared  in  print 
in  the  following  spring,  and  the  success  which  it  met  with, 
together  with  the  advice  of  several  highly  estimable  per- 
sons, determined  me  to  devote  myself  seriously  to  the  life 


116  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

of  an  authoress,  and  to  develop  my  talent  as  much  as 
possible. 

I  am  now  thirty  years  old,  and  am  working  systemat- 
ically and  with  earnestness  towards  a  fixed  aim.  My 
worldly  position  is  prosperous,  and  within  me  is  life  and 
peace.  If  it  pleased  God,  I  might  become  a  respectable 
and  useful  writer. 

For  the  sake  of  my  sisters,  more  than  for  my  own  sake, 
I  wish  to  succeed  and  to  gain  honor  and  applause.  They 
live  so  much  in  me,  and  I  have  so  much  to  thank  them  for 
especially  my  dear  Hedda,  who  is  as  good  as  an  angel. 


LETTERS. 


ARSTA,  14th  January,  1828. 

IT  is  still  early  morning  when  I  sit  down  to  write  to  my 
darling  Lotten.  I  see  by  your  letter,  which  I  received 
yesterday,  that  mine  had  not  then  reached  you.  Dearest 
Charlotte  !  If  you  but  knew  how  much  good  your  letter 
(although  far  too  short)  has  done  me,  you  would  at  once 
abandon  needle  and  thread,  piano-forte  and  music-books, 
or  what  else  you  may  be  busy  with,  in  order  to  fabricate 
another  such  letter,  which  shall  more  vividly  and  clearly 

picture  to  my  longing  eyes  Agatha  W 's  and  your  own 

every-day  life.  Thanks  be  to  God  that  Agatha  is  so  well, 
so  comfortable,  so  sensible  !  Thanks  be  to  God  that  you 
are  beside  her  !  and  that,  while  contributing  to  render  her 
life  more  pleasant,  you  can  yourself  enjoy  the  delightful 
feeling  of  leading  a  comfortable  and  useful  existence. 
Born  and  qualified,  as  you  are,  for  an  active  life,  and  to 
devote  yourself  to  others,  how  must  I  not  rejoice  to  see 
you  fulfill  now  for  the  first  time  your  beautiful  mission  ; 
yourself  happy,  by  making  others  happy.  How  delightful 
your  plans  for  this  winter  !  Music  and  reading,  life's  po- 
etry ;  work,  its  most  enchanting  prose  ;  and  I  feel  con- 
vinced that  its  more  commonplace  yet  necessary  side,  to 
eat  and  to  sleep,  will  not  be  forgotten.  But  I  must  have  a 
more  detailed  sketch  of  all  this.  Until  then  I  shall  find 
no  leisure  myself,  either  for  eating  or  sleeping. 

And  then  this  little  "  expected  stranger,"  how  he  inter- 
ests me  already !  How  sweet  he  must  be,  and  how  happy  ! 


118  LETTERS. 

He  shall  therefore  be  the  first  who  again  awakens  my  slum- 
bering vena :  — 

*  Slumbering  cherub, 
Quietly  nestling 
Safe  in  thy  mother's 
Fluttering  bosom  ; 
Fondly  we  greet  thee, 
Child  fondly  longed  for, 
Hail  to  thee,  hail ! 

Life  bids  thee  welcome,  — 
Life  with  its  thousand 
Joys  that  await  thee; 
Yet  in  mysterious 
Darkness  reposing, 
Thou  love-created, 
Know'st  not  what  shadows 
Brood  over  life ; 
Though  life  already, 
Warm  as  the  genial 
Breezes  of  spring-tide, 
Quickens  thy  breast. 

Time  bids  thee  welcome; 
Little  thou  knowest 
Him,  who  in  wisdom 
Tenderly  fosters 
All  things  created,  — 
Time,  who  will  fold  thee 
In  his  embrace. 

Earth  bids  thee  welcome ; 
There  as  a  merry 
Child  shalt  thou  gambol, 
Rip'ning  through  youth  to 
High-hearted  manhood, 
Active  and  strong. 

Suffering  and  sorrow, 
Darkest  of  shadows, 
Loom  in  the  valley, 
Yet  fear  them  not. 
Fondly  a  mother's 
Love  never-failing, 
Like  a  strong  buckler, 
Shelters  thy  wand'rings, 
Shields  thee  from  harm. 


LETTERS.  119 

Briers,  sharp  and  thorny, 
Fierce-stinging  nettles, 
Spring  by  the  way-side, 
Yet  fear  them  not. 
Soon  shall  a  tender 
Hand  be  up-raised, 
Smoothing  its  roughness, 
Strewing  with  thornless 
Roses  thy  path. 

Spirits  of  evil, 
Dark  and  malignant, 
Lurk  'mid  the  od'rous 
Flow'r-laden  coverts, 
Yet  fear  them  not; 
For  on  love's  snow-white 
Pinions  upspringing, 
Guarding  thy  young  brow, 
Heavenward  hovers 
A  mother's  prayer. 

Angels  aforetime 
Guided  the  pilgrim 
Up  to  the  holy 
Hills  of  the  faithful. 
Blest  was  his  lot! 
Slumbering  pilgrim, 
Wake  from  thy  dreaming ! 
Morning  already 
Glows  in  the  welkin, 
Whilst  at  thy  side  an 
Angel  is  waiting: 
Waiting  to  lead  thee 
Up  to  yon  sun-bright 
Heights  of  the  blessed, 
Where  spring  eternal, 
With  its  green  palm-branch, 
Crowneth  the  feeble 
Though  faithful  strivings 
Of  mortal  man. 

Who  is  the  guardian 
Angel  that  watches 
O'er  thy  young  life? 
Whose  is  that  fair  form 
Over  thy  cradle, 
Singing  and  weeping 
Tears  of  delight  ? 


120  LETTERS. 

Who  at  her  bosom 
Wakes  thee  to  gladness,  — 
Gladness  and  life  ? 
Pilgrim  thrice  blessed ! 
Thou  who  still  sleepest 
Peacefully  resting 
Close  to  thy  mother's 
Quick-beating  heart; 
Babe  of  our  prayers, 
Yearn'd  for  so  fondhr, 
Lo,  in  yon  angel, 
Thy  mother  behold ! 

Do  not  read  this  to  Agatha,  if  you  think  that  it  will  excite 
her.  You  know  that  every  thing  which  I  write  is  more  or 
less  helter-skelter  work,  and  that  these  poetic  effusions  are 
founded  upon  my  blissful  ignorance  of  rules  and  correctness, 
so  important,  however,  if  one  wishes  to  produce  any  thing 
above  mediocrity.  I  shall  send  you  the  verses  which  you 
have  asked  for  in  my  next  letter.  I  have  no  time  to-day. 

I  have  nothing  more  to  add  to  the  description,  which  I 
gave  last,  of  the  life  led  by  the  Arsta  colony,  except  that  I 
am  painting  most  industriously  for  a  certain  General,  who 
has  implored  me  on  his  knees  for  a  picture,  and  —  that  we 
consume  a  great  deal  of  water-gruel. 

August  fancies  himself  in  heaven  with  his  cornetcy  and 

his  uniform.  General  H is  very  kind  to  him.  He 

will  probably  begin  l  to  pass  his  grades  for  the  military 

service  in  February.  F is  his  oracle,  and  what 

"  F says  "  and  "  F thinks  "  is  as  incontrovertible 

as  the  Bible.  It  is  quite  delightful  to  witness  his  happi- 
ness. And  fortunate  it  is  that,  while  life  is  fresh  and  we 
are  still  young  ourselves,  Fate  shows  itself  like  a  complai- 
sant and  loving  bride,  and  not  like  asurly  and  quarrelsome 
old  woman,  who,  grumbling,  follows  our  every  step,  —  which 
often  happens  to  many  an  honest  wanderer. 

1  In  order  to  obtain  an  accurate  acquaintance  with  the  details  of  mili- 
tary service,  an  officer  has  to  do  duty  for  some  time  (in  the  cavalry  from 
four  to  six  months)  as  a  private,  as  a  corporal,  and  as  a  non-commissioned 
officer.  This  is  termed  "  passing  the  degrees,"  or  "  going  through  the 
grades." 


BETTERS.  121 

Our  father  is  very  weak ;  Hedda  watches  over  him  every 
other  night ;  and,  knowing  this,  it  is  with  real  remorse  that 
at  night  I  lay  my  head  on  my  pillow. 

Our  Agatha  is  thriving  excellently  well  amongst  her  ma- 
chinery, such  as  it  has  lately  been  arranged  for  her.  She 
is  merrier  than  formerly,  singing  from  morning  till  night 
her  favorite  refrain,  — 

"  Witschly,  watschly,  witschly,  watschly, 
Bump,  there  goes  one!  " 

My  dear  little  Charlotte  !  For  aught  I  know  I  have 
nothing  more  to  relate  to  you.  Amongst  more  indifferent 
acquaintances,  I  know  of  nobody  who  is  dying,  or  who  is 
going  to  be  married.  With  the  exception  of  these  two 
epochs,  there  is  nothing  in  their  life  interesting  enough  for 
me  to  write  about. 

Farewell,  my  dearest  Charlotte  !  A  long  letter  I  expect 
and  beg  from  you.  Remember  how  deeply  I  am  interested 
in  all  that  concerns  you,  and  that  nothing  so  effectually  dis- 
perses the  melancholy  which  sometimes  affects  me,  as  to 
hear  and  know  that  you  are  enjoying  yourself  and  are 
happy.  Give  my  love  to  Agatha.  How  happy  I  am,  how 
I  rejoice  to  know,  that  you  are  together ;  but  tell  me  much, 
much  of  yourselves.  Farewell ! 

February,  1828. 

"  Good  gracious !  Oh,  how  fortunate  that  is  !  Well, 
how  happy  I  am  !  " 

Do  not  blot  out  my  joyful  effusions,  my  good,  my  happy 
Agatha,  my  sweet  Charlotte,  with  a  contemptuous  ejacula- 
tion, only  because  they  are  not  served  up  with  tears  or 
with  phosphoric  flames. 

You  may  be  very  dull, 

Inditing  phrases  crude. 
Yet  may  your  heart  be  full, 

With  richest  stores  imbued. 
Of  feelings  warmly  glowing 

You  may  pour  forth  whole  hoards, 


122  LETTERS* 

Both  earth  and  sea  o'erflowing 

With  flow'ry,  flaunting  words. 
Yet  on  the  board  of  common  sense, 
A  simple  dish,  without  pretense,  — 
Say  plain  potatoes,  crisp  and  dry,  — 
Should  have  a  value  full  as  high 
As  puddings  ever  so  delicious, 
Served  up  in  gold  or  silver  dishes.; 

Then  Agatha,  my  dear, 

You  must  not  think  it  queer, 

If  I  in  simplest  language  here 
Present  you  my  good  wishes :  — 
"  May  this  dear  boy  both  stout  and  strong 

In  heart  and  soul  and  body  be. 
And  may  his  lady  mother  long 

Live  in  good  health  right  happily!  " 

Amen. 

You  will  certainly  think,  my  dear  Charlotte,  that  I  have 
nothing  else  to  do  than  to  think  and  dream  of  those  I 
love,  and,  like  a  turtle-dove,  coo  out  my  feelings.  All  a 
mistake !  A  tremendous  mistake !  I  am  overrun  with 
people  from  morning  to  night ;  and  what  do  you  think 
they  want  ?  Hear  only :  — 

'T  is  either  the  good  mother, 
Or  't  is  the  darling  brother, 
Or  else  the  small  boy  quaking, 
All  with  the  ague  shaking! 
Now  round  the  good  Mam'selle, 
Who  in  the  house  doth  dwell, 
They  crowd  in  anxious  mood, 
And  beg  her  to  supply 
Some  sovereign  remedy; 
No  matter  where  't  was  brewed, 
Or  how  they  gulp  it  down, 
With  many  an  angry  frown; 
If  it  but  make  them  well, 
From  direful  ague  free, 
'Twill  life's  elixir  be! 

And  this  elixir  of  life  I  compose  of  all  kinds  of  ingre- 
dients ;  such  as  ale,  allspice,  Swedish  brandy,  wormwood, 
and  caraway-seeds,  etc.,  etc.  One  person  I  really  believed 


LETTERS.  123 

I  had  poisoned ;  but  she  recovered,  and  my  remedies  upon 
the  whole  succeed  very  well. 

Your  letter  made  me  happy.  You  are  calm,  therefore 
I  am  so  too.  It  arrived  on  a  Sabbath  morning ;  and,  after 
we  had  read  it,  —  Agatha  and  I,  — we  had  our  morning 
service,  and  prayed  fervently  and  repeatedly :  "  Charlotte, 
dear  Charlotte !  God  grant  that  she  may  be  happy !  "  Oh, 
yes  !  God,  the  All-good,  grant  that  you  may  be  happy, 

Charlotte,  you  and  all  my  sisters,  and  Agatha  W .     I 

feel  that,  to  complete  my  earthly  happiness,  I  need  you  all ; 
and  if  I  only  attain  this,  the  saddest  circumstances  which 
can  surround  me  in  future  will  not  be  able  to  disturb  the 
peace  of  my  soul.  Towards  that  future,  to  these  objects 
so  sorrowful,  yet  for  me  so  dear,  you  know,  my  whole  heart 
and  soul  yearns,  whilst  it  thanks  God  for  the  peace  it  now 
enjoys. 

*  Morning  sun  and  star  of  evening, 
All  the  garish  hours  of  daylight, 
All  the  silent  midnight  watches, 
In  each  throbbing  heart  discover 
One  bright  hope,  one  bitter  anguish, 
Still  the  same  unchanging  ever, 
And  the  same  deep,  fervent  prayer. 
In  the  darksome  mine  is  smouldering 
Fire  that  preys  upon  its  vitals ; 
Sudden  as  it  finds  an  outlet, 
Lo !  its  blaze  ascends  to  heaven, 
Like  some  altar-flame  majestic, 
That  in  clear  effulgence  glowing 
Rises  o'er  this  earthly  sphere. 

How  busy  you  must  have  been  for  the  christening !  I 
picture  to  myself  every  thing  that  is  near  and  about  you. 
How  happy  we  were  to  hear  of  Agatha's  safe  confinement, 
I  cannot  describe.  It  cured  our  Agatha's  headache,  and  I 
did  every  thing  topsy-turvy  the  whole  morning.  Farewell, 
dear,  kind  friends.  My  compliments  to  the  little  Count. 

1828. 

.  .  .  To  your  grave  questions  I  answer  by  refer- 
ring you  to  my  last  two  letters.  It  is  not  now  left  to  my 


124  LETTERS. 

own  choice  to  travel ;  but  rest  assured  that  my  choice  and 
my  wish  is,  that  it  should  remain  as  it  is  now. 

.  .  .  You  are  right,  my  dear  Charlotte  !  I  should  cer- 
tainly not  be  able,  as  you  think  possible,  to  bear  stoically 
such  trifling  discomforts  as  those  which  you  anticipate.  I 
may  in  this  respect  compare  your  soul  to  the  stout  satin, 
the  smooth  surface  of  which  can  withstand  many  creases 
and  much  wear  and  tear,  in  comparison  to  the  soft  muslin, 
which  the  slightest  rough  handling  spoils,  and  the  likeness 
of  which  I  recognize  in  the  composition  of  my  own  weak 
and  helpless  soul.  Be  not  uneasy  about  me  and  my  dis- 
position. Gay  I  am  not,  it  is  true  ;  but  I  am  often  very 
happy  when  I  contemplate  this  peaceful  life  of  self-denial, 
which,  I  trust  in  God,  may  guide  me  to  the  goal  which 
I  have  always  deemed  the  only  one  worth  longing  for. 
Earthly  happiness  I  hope  to  receive  at  the  hands  of  my 
brothers  and  sisters,  especially  my  sisters,  and  I  know  that 
their  happiness  will  render  my  own  too  great  almost  for 
this  earth.  Do  not  see  herein  any  feature  of  melancholy. 
It  is,  believe  me,  not  melancholy.  On  the  contrary,  in 
these  ideas  my  brightest  hopes  are  clothed;  and  also 
the  belief  (I  will  not  call  it  a  fantastic  one)  that  the 
fervent  and  constant  prayers  which  a  heart,  renouncing 
all  its  own  claims  and  devoting  itself  to  God,  pours  out 
for  those  whom  it  loves  above  all  others,  and  for  their  own 
sake,  will  not  be  ineffectual.  Do  not  deprive  me  of  the 
happiness  of  hoping  that  one  day  I  shall  be  your  invisible 
guardian  angel.  And  if  your  Fredrika,  once  so  worldly- 
minded,  should  seek,  under  a  more  serious  exterior,  for 
peace  and  a  more  spiritual  life,  it  ought  not  to  make  you 
uneasy,  dearest  Charlotte,  you  who  know  that  it  is  neces- 
sary, especially  for  certain  characters.  My  dearest  Char- 
lotte, you  can  never  write  too  much  about  yourself;  for  me 
it  will  always  be  too  little.  You  are  really  very  good  to 
write,  when  I  know  that  letter-writing  does  not  much  inter- 
est you.  But  you  think  of  me,  —  you  wish  to  make  me 
happy,  —  and  you  do  it. 


LETTERS.  125 

The  painting  of  the  old  man  with  the  cap,  which  was 
hanging  in  my  bedroom,  I  have  copied  in  sepia  in  minia- 
ture, on  ivory.  I  intend  giving  either  this  or  a  "  Sainte 
Famille,"  also  miniature  in  sepia,  to  the  General.  My 
"  Napoleon  "  is  indeed  very  good  ;  and  he  who  wants  to 
have  him  must  pay  me  seventy-five  rix  dollars  for  him. 

My  vena  is  very  dry  ;  but  when  it  again  begins  to  flow, 
it  shall  flow  towards  you. 

The  manuscript  of  the  narrative  of  the  "  War  with  the 
Barbarians  "  has  chanced  to  be  made  an  auto-da-fe  of,  to- 
gether with  some  other  contraband ;  and  our  father  has 
got  the  newspaper.  As  you  want  it,  I  shall  ask  Hedda  to 
copy  and  send  it  to  you. 

Embrace  Agatha  for  me,  and  say  to  her  every  thing  that 
is  loving. 

ACCOUNT   OF   TOE  WAR  WITH  THE  BARBARIANS.l 
Extract  of  a  Letter  from  Arsta,  dated  20th  of  March,  1827. 

"  This  neighborhood  has  lately  witnessed  terrible  scenes  ; 
and  even  if  time  were  to  throw  its  thickest  veil  over  the 
heroic  deeds  which  they  engendered,  still  History  would 
be  able  to  read,  without  spectacles,  the  letters  shining  like 
flames  through  night's  darkness,  and  record  the  eternal 
characters  upon  her  tables.  But  I  will  not  keep  you  any 
longer  upon  the  rack  of  curiosity. 

"  Innumerable  hordes  of  Barbarians  overran  our  peace- 
ful neighborhood ;  their  fearful  shouts  and  grunting  filled, 

1  When  my  sister  Agatha,  while  undergoing  the  orthopedic  treatment 
at  Arsta,  and  still  using  crutches,  and  wearing  round  her  head  an  instru- 
ment or  machine  resembling  a  helmet,  and  called  "  Minerva,"  was  one  day 
going  to  take  a  walk,  together  with  Fredrika  and  Hedda,  they  were  sur- 
rounded in  the  court-yard  by  a  herd  of  pigs.  Their  terror  and  confusion 
was  much  increased  when  all  the  dogs  began  barking  at  and  chasing  these 
animals,  until  my  sisters  were  at  last  saved  by  the  man-servant,  Lindberg, 
who  came  to  their  rescue.  Fredrika  wrote  the  same  night  an  account  of 
this  incident,  heading  it  the  Arsta  Gazette,  which  she  wrote  in  printed 
characters,  to  imitate  a  newspaper,  and  sent  to  town  in  order  to  amuse 
my  father  on  his  birthday. 


126  LETTERS. 

even  at  a  distance,  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants  with  terror, 
and  dreadful  was  the  havoc  committed  by  them  wherever 
their  sharp  swords  encountered  any  resistance.  The  earth 
shook  under  the  thunder  of  their  war-engines  ;  the  danger 
was  pressing;  while,  with  noble  self-sacrifice,  Brigadier- 
General  Hedda  di  Bravura  made  a  sortie  from  the  for- 
tress of  Arsta,  at  the  head  of  the  regiment '  Fredrika,'  so 
renowned  for  its  bravery,  but  now  reduced,  in  consequence 
of  heavy  losses,  to  a  small  corps.  In  another  direction 
was  seen  hastening  to  the  attack,  in  double-quick  time,  and 
with  loud  war-cries  of  '  Bow-wow  ! '  the  heroic  volunteers 
Terrible,  Vainqueur,  Diana,  Camilla,  the  youthful  hero  Ar- 
row, the  undaunted  Hunter,  led  on  by  the  General-en-c/.ef 
of  the  jumping  infantry,  the  incomparable  Agatha  della 
Poltronna.  Their  plan  was  to  surround  the  enemy.  The 
attack  of  our  generals  from  two  opposite  sides  was  made 
with  the  greatest  valor ;  and  notwithstanding  the  triple  su- 
periority of  the  Barbarians  in  numerical  strength,  their  war- 
cry  becoming  louder  and  louder  every  moment,  they  began 
to  show  that  disorder  and  terror  was  spreading  through  their 
ranks ;  when  all  at  once,  in  consequence  of  the  too  great 
ardor  of  the  curveting  volunteers,  a  momentary  confusion 
arose  among  our  troops ;  friend  and  foe  were  fighting  in 
one  entangled  mass,  scarcely  able  to  recognize  each  other ; 
every  thing  was  in  a  hurly-burly,  and  terror  and  confusion 
reached  its  height,  when,  in  the  very  brunt  of  the  battle, 
General  Hedda  di  Bravura,  while  performing  deeds  of  mar- 
velous gallantry,  fell,  as  there  is  every  reason  to  suspect, 
more  in  consequence  of  the  incautious  onset  of  the  curvet- 
ing volunteers,  than  in  consequence  of  the  cuffs  of  the  Bar- 
barians. The  regiment  '  Fredrika,'  seeing  with  despair  its 
undaunted  leader  down,  took  to  flight  with  inconceivable 
celerity ;  while  the  youthful  Della  Poltronna  stood  alone 
and  unconquered,  in  the  midst  of  the  combatants,  animat- 
ing by  voice  and  example  his  volunteers,  already  flagging 
from  over-exertion,  to  a  renewed  attack.  It  seemed  as  if 


LETTERS.  127 

Minerva  herself  was  hovering  over  his  head,  and  by  a  well- 
timed  application  of  certain  war-engines,  called  crutches, 
he  succeeded,  as  by  a  miracle,  to  turn  the  scale  in  our 
favor.  He  became,  however,  soon  aware  of  the  necessity 
of  a  speedy  retreat ;  and  he  was  just  weighing  in  his  mind 
how  this  could  be  effected  with  honor,  and  without  too  seri- 
ous a  loss,  when  suddenly  a  helping  angel,  sent  from  above, 
came  like  a  whirlwind  to  the  rescue.  It  is  Alexander ! 
It  is  Bucephalus  !  In  a  word,  it  was  Lindberg !  He  runs, 
he  gallops,  he  flies ;  he  is  everywhere.  The  enemy  was, 
after  a  few  minutes,  dispersed  in  a  headlong  flight  in  all 
directions ;  he  was  pursued  with  unflinching  energy  by 
Lindberg,  flaming  like  the  Aurora  Borealis;  and  before 
night  had  thrown  its  mantle  over  the  scene,  innumerable 
prisoners  were  made.  Scarcely  had  the  battle-field  been 
cleared  of  the  hostile  army,  when,  to  the  amazement  of 
every  body,  General  Hedda  di  Bravura,  who  was  thought 
to  be  amongst  the  fallen,  got  up,  and,  staring  at  the  field 
of  honor  with  tearful  eyes,  struck  up  with  a  loud  voice  a 
thundering  song  of  victory ;  after  which,  with  glowing 
countenance,  he  turned  towards  the  fortress,  where  the 
regiment '  Fredrika '  was  lying  in  ambush,  ready  to  open, 
if  necessary,  a  brisk  fire  through  the  windows,  and  shouted 
with  all  his  might  these  words :  '  Veni,  vidi,  vici ! '  which 
were  answered  by  the  said  gallant  regiment  with  loud 
huzzas !  '  Long  live  our  General,  Hedda  di  Bravura ! ' 
With  triumphal  music  and  huzzas  the  conquerors  held 
their  entry  into  the  fortress,  where  General  Hedda  di  Bra- 
vura, under  careful  tending,  will  recover  from  his  wounds, 
which  were  found  to  consist  in  merely  a  severe  contusion. 

"  There  are  strong  reasons  (and  I  mention  it  with  great 
indignation)  to   suspect  the  commander  of  the   fortress, 

Chevalier  C.  B ,  of  being  in  secret  understanding  with 

the  Barbarians.  The  inefficient  measures  taken,  and  the 
want  of  energy  displayed  by  him  during  their  daring  in- 
road, would  alone  have  been  sufficient  to  inspire  this  belief, 


128  LETTERS. 

even  had  he  not  himself  confirmed  the  same  one  day  at 
dinner,  when  roast  pork  was  put  upon  the  table,  by  openly 
proposing  a  toast  for  the  Barbarians.  It  is  even  whis- 
pered that  a  colony  of  these  brutes,  founded  in  a  neighbor- 
ing allied  state,  is  in  a  very  flourishing  condition,  owing  to 
his  secret  agency." 

1828. 

The  latter  part  of  your  letter,  my  dear  Charlotte,  has 
effaced  the  painful  impression  which  its  other  contents 
made  upon  me.  That  you  are  well  is  to  me  a  necessity, 
and  this  knowledge  throws  a  light  upon  my  path,  like  a 
friendly  little  star,  so  that  complete  darkness  never  sur- 
rounds me.  Do  not  reply  to  this  by  any  thanks :  it  is 
not  of  my  own  free  will  that  it  is  so ;  it  is  necessity,  it  is 
fate.  And  if  I  had  a  choice,  I  might  perhaps  not  have 
submitted  to  it,  because  my  beloved  banner,  Independence, 
will  therefore  always  be  in  danger.  Meanwhile,  I  am 
tolerably  reconciled  to  my  fate.  On  you  alone  rests  the 
responsibility  and  duty  to  take  care,  above  all.  of  your  own 
happiness  for  the  sake  of  mine.  Remember  well  what  I 
am  now  going  to  write,  my  dear  sister.  I  feel  convinced 
that  it  depends  only  upon  yourself  to  remain  where  you 
are  as  long  as  you  like.  Our  father  is  exceedingly  pleased 
that  you  and  Agatha,  whom  he  really  loves,  are  together, 
and  he  says  "  that  he  cannot  now  understand  how  he  could 
ever  have  made  any  difficulties  about  it."  We  all,  and  I 
especially,  wish  that  you  would  remain  there  ;  every  thing 
seems  to  promise  you  an  agreeable  life,  and  more  useful 
activity  than  could  have  fallen  to  your  Jot  at  old  Arsta. 

1 hus  and  T o,  so   it  seems  to  me,  will  in  their 

shades  harbor  my  little  Charlotte  so  pleasantly  and  so 
comfortably,  and  no  doubt  soften  every  thought  of  regret 
at  not  wandering  among  our  hazel-woqds  and  gooseberry- 
bushes.  Sincerely  happy  as  I  should  be  to  see  you  again, 
and  conscious,  as  I  am,  that  my  longing  will  increase  in 


LETTERS.  129 

proportion  as  the  days  grow  shorter,  still  I  shall  enjoy  this 
summer  in  a  double  measure,  provided  I  can  be  sure  that 
you  do  the  same ;  a  thing  which  you  have  not  done  for 
many  years.  Consider  this  well,  dearest  Charlotte,  and 
then  follow  •  the  dictates  of  your  own  free  will.  A  let- 
ter from  Agatha,  who  writes  so  well  and  so  engagingly, 
and  one  from  yourself,  will  surely  cause  a  prolongation 
of  your  stay. 

I  do  not  share  the  apprehension  which  you  express,  as 
long  as  you  always  remain  what  you  were  created  to  be,  — 
artless,  good,  and  obliging.  It  is  not  a  new,  but  a  true, 
thought,  that  every  body  ought  to  endeavor  thoroughly  to 
know  the  intrinsic  worth  of  his  own  character,  and,  like  a 
skillful  sculptor,  to  form,  work,  and  polish  it  until  the  rough 
cast  made  by  Nature  stands  out  in  its  harmonious  and 
original  beauty ;  that  every  thing  foreign  —  every  angle  — 
may  disappear.  This  is  the  work  of  at  least  half  a  life- 
time. For  the  remaining  other  half  one  stands,  in  the 
most  fortunate  case,  like  Psyche  in  Sergei's  studio.  The 
master  who  carries  the  ideal  in  his  soul,  is  never  perfectly 
satisfied  with  his  workmanship ;  the  small  alterations  and 
embellishments  which  he  makes,  are  most  frequently  vis- 
ible only  to  his  own  artist  eye. 

Your  expression  "  that  I  have  returned  to  life,"  amuses 
me.  I  am  still  the  same  that  I  was  when,  by  some  chance, 
I  became  so  painfully  depressed ;  perhaps  even  more  calm, 
more  submissive,  more  meek,  and  therefore  less  in  danger 
of  being  again  exposed  to  any  thing  similar.  Gay  I  am 
not,  and  not  merry,  except  in  my  letters ;  and  shall  per- 
haps not  be  so  again  ;  nor  do  I  even  wish  it  after  the  bent 
which  my  feelings  and  my  thoughts  have  taken.  But  I  am 
so  calm  that  I  often  feel  happy,  and  am  ready  to  derive  en- 
joyment and  pleasure  from  even  the  least  of  the  good 
things  of  life.  A  flower,  a  book,  a  fine  day,  gives  me 
pleasure  now  as  much  as  when  I  was  a  child ;  and  above 
all,  my  painting,  upon  which  I  build  great  speculations. 
9 


130  LETTERS. 

With  respect  to  my  grand  project  of  travelling,  I  see 
plainly  that  nothing  can  now  be  done.  I  must  wait.  In 
my  present  position,  — especially  my  pecuniary  position, — 
patience  is  the  best  wisdom.  God's  will  be  done !  Mean- 
while I  intend  to  be  more  active  in  all  that  surrounds  me. 
Be  it  said  with  due  permission,  I  am  thoroughly  healthy 
and  strong.  But  who  will  believe  my  words  ? 

Farewell,  my  dear  Charlotte  ;  write  more  about  your- 
self ;  read  "  Grandison,"  and  be  not  more  reserved  than 
this  model  of  perfection,  and  his  Miss  Byron. 

ABSTA,  13th  June,  1828. 

Our  letters  cross  each  other,  my  dear  Charlotte  !  By 
your  last,  addressed  to  us  all,  I  see  with  sincere  delight 
that  you  seem  to  thrive  well  and  to  amuse  yourself  occa- 
sionally. When  next  you  write,  tell  me  more  particularly 
how  you  feel,  and  of  the  state  of  your  mind,  etc.,  etc.  It 
interests  me  more  than  any  thing  else.  Ah  !  how  exceed- 
ingly delightful  it  will  be  to  see  you  again,  and  yet  I  wish 
that  it  may  not  be  so  soon.  Our  family  atmosphere  is 
heavy,  and  I  know  that  if  I  should  see  it  depress  you,  I 
should  again  lose  the  strength  which  I  have  recovered  in 
the  course  of  these  two  pleasant,  but  solitary  winters  at 
Arsta.  I  am  a  poor  child,  dearest  Charlotte,  sensitive  in 
the  extreme  both  for  myself  and  for  others ;  and  amongst 
these  others,  you  are  nearest  to  my  heart.  Do  not,  how- 
ever, believe  that  I  am  sad ;  far  from  it ;  I  enjoy  very 
gratefully  and  contentedly  the  many  peaceful  days  which  I 
now  have  ;  and  the  glances  which  I  cast  into  the  future, 
although  half  shy  and  by  stealth,  reveal  to  me  always  what 
I  wish  for  my  sisters  and  for  myself.  I  occupy  myself  as 
usual,  and  more  I  might  do  if  I  would  meddle  in  the  inter- 
nal state  affairs  of  this  place.  Now  and  then  a  peasant  or 
a  peasant  woman  come  to  solicit  my  intercession  and  my 
protection  in  one  thing  or  another  ;  but  I,  poor  thing,  who 
have  less  influence  than  the  dishclout  of  a  Prime  Minis- 


LETTERS.  131 

ter's  cook,  am  obliged  to  put  them  off  with  fair  words  and 
slender  hope. 

Agatha  W has  written  an  amiable  and  eloquent  let- 
ter (according  to  her  wont)  to  our  mother,  in  which  she 
asks  that  you  may  stay  over  the  summer  with  her.  How 
happy  I  am  that  you  are  so  dear  to  Agatha  ! 

I  am  not  going  to  the  L sens  for  many  reasons,  the 

most  weighty  of  which  is,  that  I  want  to  be  all  I  can  to  our 
dear  Agatha,  especially  now  when  she  requires  care  and 
assistance.  We  are  now  busy  getting  up  her  wardrobe. 
I  sew,  turn  the  wrong  way,  as  usual,  and  have  to  rip  open 
and  sew  over  again ;  but  I  get  through,  after  all.  The  day 
when  August  makes  his  appearance  here  in  full  regiment- 
als, I  intend  dressing  my  darling  in  dazzling  white  and  rose 
color.  I  shall  give  you  a  full  and  detailed  account  of  this 
meeting,  which  I  heartily  rejoice  in. 

Now,  farewell,  my  darling ;  remain  well,  sleep  well,  sing 
well,  and  enjoy  yourself  well. 

Agatha  embraces  you  with  a  volume  of  Madame  de 
Genlis'  "Memoirs"  in  her  hand. 

AESTA,  16th  September. 

Having  now  been  alone  a  whole  week,  I  have  with  all 
my  heart  and  soul  enjoyed  repose.  Solitude  is  my  greatest 
happiness ;  why  or  how  I  do  not  understand,  when  sisters, 
good  as  angels,  are  my  daily  companions.  But  so  it  is. 
Only  when  I  am  quite  alone,  do  I  feel  happy. 

Our  mother  has  gone  to  town  to  meet  our  father,  from 
whom  we  have  not  had  any  letter  for  three  weeks.  Two 
have  now  arrived  which  our  mother  sent  out  to  us  yester- 
day. Our  father  is  feasted,  caressed,  and  made  a  great 
deal  of  by  friends  and  relatives,  who  drink  our  healths  and 
hold  banquets  to  celebrate  his  arrival  in  Finland.  You, 
my  dear  Charlotte,  who  are  so  very  fond  of  all  relatives, 
ought  to  have  been  with  him  on  this  journey,  which,  to 
judge  from  his  and  Claes'  letters,  must  have  been  very 


132  LETTERS. 

pleasant.  Agatha  is  now  up,  often  half  the  day ;  is  stronger, 
and  very  charming.  Hedda  is  weaving  down-stairs  in  the 
corner  room,  and  I  —  I  preserve  fruit,  write  novels  and 
write  letters,  paint,  spin,  go  and  come,  in  and  out,  and  when 
evening  comes  I  look  to  see  whither  the  morning  flew  so 
fast. 

My  sisters  stretch  out  hands,  unsoiled  by  ink,  to  embrace 
you. 

ARSTA,  20th  October,  1828. 

Yesterday  we  received  the  Holy  Communion,  Agatha 
and  I.  I  returned  thanks  for  two  years  of  rest,  and  prayed 
for  strength ;  prayed  for  strength  humbly  to  receive  all 
future  dispensations ;  prayed  for  the  happiness  and  peace 
of  all  those  who  belong  to  me,  and  also  most  fervently  for 
her  who  now,  for  the  first  time  after  several  years,  went  to 
the  Lord's  table.  Agatha  was  deeply  and  sincerely  moved, 
and  this  impression  upon  her  did  me  an  infinite  deal  of 
good.  Ah  !  may  she  be  happy  ;  may  she  be  good  !  May 
in  her  the  former  effect  the  latter.  The  path  of  sorrow  is 
so  bitter  and  embitters  so  much !  I  am  a  little  sad  to-night, 
and  I  ought,  perhaps,  not  to  write  to  you. 

I  long  very  much  to  hear  that  you  are  enjoying  yourself. 
The  winter  will,  I  hope,  be  a  pleasant  one  for  us,  and  if 
Agatha  has  any  pleasure,  it  will  give  pleasure  also  to  me. 
But  the  anticipation  of  the  town  air  gives  me  the  horrors. 
To-morrow  we  expect  our  mother  and  Claes  here,  and  then 
the  day  for  our  moving  will  be  fixed. 

27th  October. 

Bishop  T s  arrived  here  to-day.     I  liked  him  very 

much.  Energetic  and  wise  —  a  real  bishop.  He  led  the 
conversation  to  Wallin's  sermon  on  Annunciation  Day, 
which  last  year  caused  me  so  much  racking  of  the  brain.1 

l  The  subject  of  Bishop  Wallin's  sermon  on  Annunciation  Day,  1827,  was 
"Woman's  noble  and  humble  mission,"  for  the  faithful  fulfillment  of  which 
the  Bishop  urged,  by  examples  taken  out  of  the  Virgin  Mary's  life,  the  n»- 


LETTERS.  133 

It  was  excellent,  thought  the  Bishop.  We  argued  the 
point  for  a  little  while,  when  he  allowed  that  Wallin,  in  one 

cessity  of  the  following  qualities:  "Pure  and  sincere  piety;  unassuming 
and  unaffected  modesty;  wise  and  gentle  meekness;  tender  and  delicate 
attention ;  all-sacrificing  and  all-submissive  love."  In  accordance  herewith 
it  was  argued,  "  that  the  domestic  sphere  was  woman's  proper  world;  "  it 
was  further  said,  "  that  what  especially  belonged  to  her  mission  was,  that 
she  ought  humbly  to  step  back  when  sudden  angry  passions  vent  them- 
selves upon  her ;  that  there  is  no  circumstance  in  life  where  a  contrary  con- 
duct could  be  excused ;  that,  in  order  to  triumph,  she  ought  carefully  to 
watch  her  own  temper  and  submit  unconstrainedly  to  that  of  others;  have 
respect  for  the  opinion  of  others,  without  any  prepossession  in  favor  of  her 
own;  and  that  even  where  her  own  opinion  should  in  reality  be  the  right 
one,  she  ought  patiently  to  wait  her  time  to  make  it  valid.  Without  pure 
and  sincere  piety,  woman's  virtue  was  nothing  but  vanity ;  her  liberal  edu- 
cation nothing  but  surface;  her  life  nothing  but  a  volatile  play,  and  her 
whole  existence  nothing  else  but  an  endless  contradiction.  But  a  man,  even 
if  he  does  not  always  see  the  heavenly  truths  with  the  same  quickness,  or 
if  he  appears  sometimes  to  doubt  them,  or  think  less  of,  or  live  less  in  them, 
would  still,  provided  his  words  or  actions  do  not  otherwise  stamp  him  as 
blasphemous  or  godless,  in  most  cases  merit  only  pity,  and  his  unfortunate 
state  of  mind  could  be,  if  not  exactly  excused,  still  often  accounted  for, 
by  saying  that  no  pious  mother  had  formerly  given  his  mind  a  better  tend- 
ency, or  that  in  later  years  no  pious  wife  had  turned  his  dim  and  confused 
thoughts  from  earthh'  to  heavenly-matters.  But  a  woman  who  does  not 
feel  that  religion  is  the  soul  of  her  soul,  is  an  inexplicable  and  odious  devia- 
tion from  the  celestial  order  of  things,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  incongruities  which  Fredrika  Bremer  imagined  with  sorrow  that  she 
had  found  in  the  social  position  of  woman,  appeared  to  her  to  have  been,  as 
it  were,  systematized  and  advocated  in  this  sermon.  It  made  a  most  pain- 
ful impression  upon  her;  and  on  coming  home  from  church,  she  gave  vent 
to  her  feelings  in  an  essay,  held  in  a  satirical  tone,  on  the  superiority  of  man 
and  the  inferiority  of  woman,  finishing  with  this  dialogue: — Man,  with  head 
erect,  striking  his  breast  proudly  with  his  hand :  "//"  Woman  :  "Thou!" 
Man:  "I  will!"  Woman:  "  Oh,  very  well  !"  Man:  "Go."  Woman 
goes.  Man :"  Come  back.'"  She  conies  back.  Man :"  Be  merry."  Woman 
dies.  After  her  death  heaven  was  opened  to  receive  her ;  but  when  after- 
wards the  man  also  tried  to  get  admittance,  it  was  denied  to  him  by  the 
porter  at  heaven's  gates,  who  referred  him  to  Bishop  Wallin,  under  whose 
surplice  he  hastened  to  conceal  himself. 

On  the  following  day,  Fredrika  Bremer  wrote  and  sent  an  anonymous 
letter  to  the  Bishop,  in  which  she  requested  that  woman,  to  her  noble  and 
peaceful  mission,  might  have  a  counterpart  in  a  delineation  of  the  man, 
such  as  he  ought  to  be  in  his  domestic  relations,  and  drawn  with  the  same 
severity  and  power,  in  order  that  the  first  picture  might  have  a  companion, 
and  in  order,  also,  that  men  may  in  the  former  sermon  not  find  an  excuse 


134  LETTERS. 

or  two  places,  had  not  been  quite  sincere.  "  Meanwhile," 
said  he,  "  Wallin  is  perfectly  right  in  advocating  religiosity 
amongst  women  ;  for  if  it  is  not  found  amongst  them,  then 
all  is  lost.  A  man  returns  always  to  his  wife  and  children 
from  the  world,  from  his  errors,  from  noise  and  bustle  ;  but 
if  he  does  not  find  religion  amongst  them,  he  remains  for- 
ever a  stranger  to  it." 

On  Friday,  the  31st,  we  are  move  to  town.  Oh,  my 
beloved,  my  beautiful  country  ! 

As  you,  my  dear  Charlotte,  and  also  Agatha  W ,  are 

so  very  indulgent  regarding  my  poetry,  I  shall  trumpet 
forth  a  piece,  which  I  composed  last  night  in  bed. 

The  incident  which  I  sing  is  true,  and  its  unfortunate 
little  hero  is  to  come  to  me  to-morrow :  — 

THE  SON   OF  MISERY. 

A  desolate  cottage  stands  by  the  wood's  verge; 

Within  it  is  dismal,  and  wretched  and  dreary; 

Deep  sighs  issue  forth  as  from  hearts  that  are  weary, 
And  outside  the  owl  hoots  a  funeral  dirge. 

A  girl  so  defenseless  and  needy  and  lone, 
On  pallet  of  straw  in  the  cottage  was  lying; 
But  none  came  to  comfort  or  care  for  the  dying, 

Till  kindly  Death  took  her  and  made  her  his  own. 

for  their  indifference  in  religious  matters ;  that  the  despotic  nature  of  a  great 
many  amongst  them  may  not,  on  the  strength  of  the  same,  try  to  prove 
that  the  duty  of  woman  is  to  be  man's  most  humble  servant,  and  to  bear 
patiently  all  the  heart-gnawing  sorrows  which,  through  his  faults  and  his 
conduct,  he  might  every  day  cause  her,  and  still  be  entitled  to  demand  of 
her  love  and  all  love's  sacrifices;  and  if  he  (the  Bishop)  would  soon  deliver 
a  religious  lecture  or  sermon,  similar  to  the  one  addressed  to  woman,  by 
which  the  conscience  of  all  destroyers  of  domestic  peace  might  be  awak- 
ened, woman  would  then  have  to  thank  the  Bishop  for  increased  happiness; 
and  the  grateful  hearts  of  many  women  would  call  down  blessings  on  him 
who  had  insured  this  happiness  to  them,  by  convincing  men,  in  his  stirring 
and  powerful  language,  how  essentially  their  conduct  would  contribute  to 
the  comfort  of  home,  to  the  wife's  happiness,  and  thus  enable  her  more 
willingly  to  fulfill  her  duties. 
This  request  was  never  responded  to. 


LETTERS.  185 

Then  hushed  was  the  heart  that  uneasily  beat, 
A  heart  fond  and  loving,  though  erring  and  failing ; 
And  silenced  the  voice  that  'mid  anguish  was  wailing 

To  Jesus  to  pardon  her  lover's  deceit. 

The  offspring  of  frailty  and  misery  drear 
Alone  in  the  hut  by  the  death-bed  was  playing; 
O'er  stiffening  limbs  his  fond  fingers  were  straying, 

Caressing  the  mother  who  'd  held  him  so  dear. 

His  look  was  bewildered,  and  pale  was  his  cheek; 

No  word  did  he  utter,  though  hungry  and  chilly ; 

A  dog  could  have  begged,  but  he,  stricken  and  sill}', 
Though  sorely  in  want,  was  unable  to  speak. 

I  looked  in  his  face,  and  methought  I  saw  there 
Expression,  though  faintly  for  life  it.  was  striving; 
A  spark  from  the  Author  celestial,  surviving, 

Might  yet  burn  brightly  in  life-giving  air. 

Now  toll  the  church-bells,  and  the  dead  on  a  bier 

To  silence  is  borne  in  humble  procession ; 

And  wanting  that  noble,  that  precious  possession, — 
His  reason,  —  the  orphan  walks  carelessly  near. 

Oh,  God !  he  ne'er  dreameth  that  he  has  no  more 
A  tender  and  motherly  heart  to  watch  o'er  him ; 
That  now  from  him  taken  has  gone  on  before  him 

The  one  who  in  sorrow  to  sorrow  him  bore. 

The  coffin  is  raised  from  the  black-covered  bier; 
Already  deep  down  in  the  earth  it  is  sinking: 
Ah  !  none  at  this  grave,  of  the  lonely  one  thinking, 

Will  offer  a  flower,  will  weep  but  a  tear. 

The  grave  is  soon  filled,  the  cross  stands  in  its  place,  • 
A  sign  which  to  perishing  sinners  proclaimeth 
And  showeth  that  God,  who  this  sinner  reclaimeth, 

Is  full  of  compassion,  and  mercy,  and  grace. 

His  pale  cheek  he  leaneth  against  the  church  wall,  — 

Neglected,  forgotten;  he  now  has  no  keeper; 

While  psalms  for  the  last  time  are  raised  for  the  sleeper, 
And  slowly  on  breezes  of  evening  they  fall. 

The  sun  has  gone  down  while  he  rambles  around, 
But  kind  stars  protectingly  over  him  brighten, 


136  LETTERS. 

And  home  to  a  cottage  his  tired  soul  they  lighten,  — 
His  mother's  —  ah!  there  will  no  mother  be  found. 

But  gladly  the  boy  sees  his  wanderings  end, 
And  now  towards  the  hut  so  deserted  he  presses, 
Expecting  fond  motherly  cares  and  caresses: 

The  mother  has  gone  to  the  penitent's  Friend. 

Alone  in  the  cottage,  so  patient  and  mild, 

The  orphan  is  waiting,  and  while  the  day  beameth, 
In  mercy  deceived,  his  poor  fancy  still  dreameth 

That  soon  —  soon  the  mother  will  come  to  her  child. 

When  day-time  and  evening  to  darkness  have  rolled, 

A  painful  disquiet  the  little  one  haunteth ; 

He  wandereth  round,  seeking  that  which  he  wanteth, 
As  restlessly  seeketh-the  miser  his  gold. 

He  looks  in  the  bed  where  his  mother  has  lain, 
And  where  she  sat  spinning,  in  all  her  old  places ; 
Her  longs  for  her  loving,  her  tender  embraces, 

He  stretches  out  fond  little  arms,  but  in  vain. 

The  clothing  she  wore  in  the  cottage  still  lies, 
He  toucheth  it,  thinking  't  is  hers,  and  he  crieth, 
And  faintly  a  stammering  "  mammy  "  he  sigheth, 

But  never  —  but  never  the  mother  replies. 

M.   E.   W. 

30th  October. 

I  did  intend  to  have  taken  a  sketch  to-day  of  the  poor 
little  boy,  whom  an  old  grandmother,  aged  70,  living  in  the 
hut  "  Bakom,"  takes  care  of.  Agatha  took  a  lively  inter- 
est in  him,  and  wished  very  much  to  see  him.  I  must  con- 
fess that  I  looked  a  little  awkward  when  I  beheld  a  little 
stout  and  chubby  boy,  with  a  face  radiant  with  happiness. 
He  is  six  years  old.  He  cannot  articulate  any  words,  but 
he  produces  a  variety  of  sounds.  He  was  otherwise  highly, 
although  idiotically,  comical,  making  the  sweetest,  smiling 
grimaces ;  and  only  when  now  and  then  he  called  out, 
"  Aja "  (his  mother's  name  was  Maja),  the  expression  of 
his  face  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  became  very  sad.  For 
the  little  sketch  of  the  "  Son  of  Misery  "  in  my  album,  I 


LETTERS.  137 

therefore  took  only  his  eyes,  and  all  the  rest  out  of  my 
own  head. 

STOCKHOLM,  3d  November. 

Here  we  are,  my  dearest  Charlotte  !  And  while  writing 
this  I  can  scarcely  refrain  from  tears.  On  Friday  we  left 
for  town.  The  weather  was  in  the  beginning  rough  and 
unpleasant,  but  the  nearer  we  came  to  town,  the  more  the 
sky  began  to  brighten  before  us,  until  we  approached  the 
outskirts  of  the  metropolis,  when  it  became  perfectly  blue 
and  brilliant.  I  mention  this  because  it  made  me  think . 
in  the  beginning  it  will  be  heavy  and  dull,  then  better,  and 
ultimately  well.  When  one  has  doubts  and  fears,  one  easily 
becomes  a  little  superstitious. 

In  the  evening  I  received  your  letter.  How  happy  I  am 

to  see  that  you  are  thriving  so  well !  F came  a  little 

later  to  see  us,  gay  and  lively.  I  went  early  to  bed,  with 
an  autumnal  night  in  my  heart  and  in  my  soul.  Saturday 
was  to  me  an  indescribably  sad  day,  and  I  wept  bitter,  bit- 
ter tears  ;  a  tribute  to  past  moments,  against  the  heavy  and 
gnawing  return  of  which  no  seraph's  wings  can  protect  us ; 
and,  as  so  often  before,  I  only  sighed,  "  Alas,  die,  die ! " 
In  the  evening  I  got  a  little  better ;  I  read  a  good  book, 
prayed  to  God,  became  calmer,  and  vowed  to  bear  up 
against  it. 

4th  November. 

I  shall  say  only  a  little  more  of  ourselves.  We  are  very 
comfortably  lodged  ;  our  drawing-room  is  elegantly  fur- 
nished and  very  cosy.  But  I  miss  what  I  value  more  than 
every  thing  else,  —  a  private  room  all  to  myself,  if  ever 
so  small.  We  are  very  quiet  here,  and  are  allowed  to 
be  much  by  ourselves  down-stairs.  Our  father's  good  and 
gentle  temper  is  gone ;  as  yet  it  is  not  difficult  to  manage, 
but  may  at  any  moment  become  so.  Our  mother  is  cheer- 
ful and  kind  ;  Hedda  calm  and  quiet,  but  not  gay  ;  Agatha 
joyous  and  full  of  hope  (as  long  as  it  lasts),  and  I  — alas, 
my  dearest  Charlotte !  I  fight  against  oppressive  feelings ; 


138  LETTERS. 

I  say  to  myself,  "  I  will  be  cheerful,"  and  I  weep.  "  But  it 
will  be  better  when  the  worst  is  over."  Do  not  moralize, 
dearest  Charlotte  !  I  know  how  well  you  mean  it ;  but  it 
is  all  in  vain.  Born  to  feel  every  thing  deeply  and  vividly, 
philosophy  and  reasoning  can,  only  to  a  certain  and  very 
insufficient  degree,  avail,  until  submission  to  God's  will  can 
have  time  to  fill  my  heart  with  peace  and  repose  ;  but  be- 
fore that,  my  poor  heart  must  have  become  faint  from  its 
own  pulsations.  Meanwhile  I  have  hope,  and  that  is  much. 
In  my  next  letter  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  that  I  am  bet- 
ter. A  propos,  write  more  about  yourself  and  less  about 
us,  my  dear  Charlotte.  How  much  good  it  does  me  to 
know  that  you  are  so  happy ! 

I  send  you  now  the  verses  which  you  asked  for :  — 

*THE  MOURNER'S  LULLABY. 

Cease  thy  weary  beating, 

Heart  with  care  opprest ! 
Life's  deep  canker,  Sorrow ! 

Taste  the  balm  of  rest. 

Close,  ye  heavy  eyelids, 

O'er  each  burning  tear! 
Eve,  with  starry  mantle, 

Waves  her  poppies  near. 

Slumber,  gentle  slumber, 

Soon  o'er  earth  shall  reign ; 
Airy  dreams  are  flitting 

Lightly  in  her  train. 

Soft  as  mists  of  evening 

Spread  their  downy  wings, 
In  the  silent  midnight, 

Peace  and  rest  she  brings. 

Lo,  the  day  is  ended, 

Day  both  long  and  drear ! 
On  my  pillow  falling. 

Drops  the  silent  tear. 

Tears  are  friends  in  sorrow; 
Soft  as  dew  they  flow 


LETTERS.  139 

On  the  fire  that  burneth 
In  our  day  of  woe. 

O'er  the  troubled  spirit 

Peace  is  stealing  now, 
When  sleep,  like  an  angel, 

Kisses  this  sad  brow. 

Hush !  oh  let  me  slumber; 

Let  me  dream  of  bliss ; 
Cease,  fond  heart,  thy  throbbing 

Grudge  not  rest  like  this ! 

Oh,  my  silent  pillow, 

Friend  so  true,  so  dear ! 
Where,  in  dreams  Elysian, 

Joy  still  hovers  near. 

Fancy's  star  above  me 

Beams  with  lustre  bland ; 
Hope's  fair  daughter,  smiling, 

Takes  my  willing  hand. 

Then  the  weary  captive 

Bursts  his  fetters  sore, 
Sings  a  song  of  triumph 

On  a  fairer  shore. 

Sees,  as  in  a  mirror, 

Future  ages  gleam ; 
Faith,  with  bark  unswerving, 

Stems  the  surging  stream. 

Feels  all  pangs  departing, 

Sees  the  heavens  grow  bright, 
Sees  the  journey  ended, 

Sees  the  Lord  of  Light. 

And  a  voice  melodious 

Whispers,  He  is  thine ! 
Holy  hymns  shall  praise  Thee, 

Father  of  all  —  and  mine ! 

Fain  of  such  glad  tidings 

I  would  yet  dream  on ; 
Of  all  pangs  forgetful, 

Thanking  God  alone ! 

M.  R.  W. 


140  LETTERS. 

STOCKHOLM,  22d  December,  1828. 

I  steal  away  from  rny  Christmas-boxes  and  all  bustle,  in 
order  to  write  to  you  a  few  lines.  If  I  had  not  had  so 
much  to  paint  at  daylight  and  also  at  candle-light,  I  would 
have  written  a  great  deal. 

August,  the  dear  boy,  came  home  on  the  llth  instant, 
full  of  life,  in  good  health  and  high  spirits.  His  examina- 
tion testimonials  are  the  best  that  have  been  given  during 
the  last  twenty  years  for  a  civil  service  examination.  He 
got  two  "  cum  laude,"  and  two  "  laudatur."  This  examina- 
tion has  really  created  quite  a  sensation.  I  have  never 
seen  our  father  so  touched  and  overjoyed  ;  he  pressed  Au- 
gust to  his  heart,  and  wept  for  joy.  One  ought  to  acknowl- 
edge that  it  is  very  praiseworthy  in  a  youth,  just  turned 
eighteen,  to  have  passed  the  grades,  and,  after  three  months' 
study,  to  deserve  such  testimonials.  Agatha,  who,  with  our 
mother,  has  been  to  the  opera  to  see  "  La  Dame  Blanche," 
was  the  whole  evening  very  much  enchanted  with  the 
White  Lady  and  the  studious  cornet.  August  is  tall,  thin, 
very  plain,  but  looks  very  nice  nevertheless. 

God  bless  you,  and  consequently  also  me,  with  a  happy 
and  good  New  Year ! 

STOCKHOLM,  18th  February,  1829. 

This  time  I  shall  not  send  you  any  formal  letter.  For  a 
while  I  have  been  too  lazy  to  write.  Neither  has  any  thing 
happened  worth  writing  about.  See  here,  however,  what 
is  most  remarkable.  Yesterday  evening,  after  my  mother 
and  sisters  had  gone  to  pay  some  visits,  I  went  up-stairs  to 
our  father,  who  sat  reading  his  newspapers  at  the  tea-table. 
He  asked  me  whether  I  wanted  some  tea.  I  answered 
with  a  gentle  "  No,  thank  you."  I  then  asked  him  if  he 
wished  me  to  read  the  newspapers  to  him.  He  answered 
with  a  gentle  "  No,"  but  said  that  he  had  something  for  me 

o  o 

to  read,  and  went  into  the  next  room  and  returned  with  a 
letter,  which  he  gave  me  ;  the  handwriting  was  unknown 


LETTERS.  Ill 

to  me.  I  went  into  the  drawing-room  and  read,  to  my  as- 
tonishment, a  very  well-written  offer  of  marriage  in  due 

form  for  my  chetive  person  from  ,  who  probably  had 

waited  for  his  promotion  to  a  higher  office  before  making 
a  final  attempt,  which  rather  astonished  me  after  all  that  I 
had  told  him.  The  letter  is  otherwise  very  good,  and  I 
was  really  sorry  for  the  man,  that  he  should  have  addressed 
the  wrong  person.  Having  read  the  letter,  I  returned  it 
to  my  father,  who  asked  me  what  he  was  to  answer.  With- 
out the  slightest  hesitation,  as  you  may  well  imagine,  I 
begged  of  him  to  say,  "  No,  I  thank  you  most  humbly ! " 
And  there  was  an  end  of  it  for  that  evening.  This  morn- 
ing my  father  sent  for  me,  read  me  his  answer,  and  asked 
me  whether  it  was  according  to  my  wish.  It  contained 
many  good  things,  but  others  which  might  have  been  left 
out.  But  it  would  never  have  done  for  me  to  make  any 
remark.  Afterwards  I  agreed  with  my  mother  and  sisters, 
that,  in  order  to  enjoy  life's  mediocre  happiness,  which,  per- 
haps, is  all  one  can  expect,  one  would  do  wiser  to  take  a 

,  than  many  another  one  with  great  external  gifts  and 

large  estates, —  provided,  nota  bene,  one  intends  to  enter 
into  the  holy  state  of  matrimony,  which  I  pray,  together 
with  all  the  tortures  mentioned  in  the  Litany,  to  be  spared 
from.  I  confess,  however,  that  I  would  rather  wish  to  be 
able  to  exclaim,  with  one  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  personages, 
"  Mon  mari,  epargnez  notre  ennemi,"  than  "  Genereux  en- 

nemis,  epargnez  mon  mari ;  "  which  latter,  no  doubt, 's 

wife  will  have  to  learn  by  heart. 

You  ask  me  whether  I  would  like  to  stay  with  Agatha 
W ?  I  should  like  it,  at  least  for  some  time,  for  a  win- 
ter or  so.  One  of  my  reasons  is,  that  I  should  like  to  write 
and  try  my  wings  as  an  authoress.  Here  in  town  this  is 
impossible.  All  my  energy,  my  wit,  my  ideas  become 
mouldy.  Besides,  I  have  a  great  longing  to  breathe  a  little 
fresh  air,  and  would  wish  at  the  same  time  to  be,  if  I  could, 
of  some  comfort  to  Agatha  W .  For  my  sisters  I  can 


142  LETTERS. 

do  so  very  little,  because  my  mind  is  not  happy.  I  believe 
that  my  letters,  far  more  than  my  conversation,  would 
amuse  them.  Our  father  feels  now  sometimes  a  feverish 
longing  to  have  you  at  home,  and  we  shall  see  whether  I 
cannot  obtain  permission  to  be  absent  for  some  time.  It 
is  strange  with  what  a  heavy  hand  time  has  led  us  through 
our  years  of  youth.  We  —  you  and  I  —  are  approaching 
thirty  years,  and  what  enjoyments  have  we  yet  had,  al- 
though we  are  both,  I  venture  to  say  it,  made  to  enjoy  and 
to  give  enjoyment  to  others.  How  little  have  we  not  been 
able  to  do,  although  both  gifted  with  so  much  energy  and 
desire  for  useful  and  beneficent  activity.  However,  I  will 
not  complain  of  those  two  last  years,  which  I  have  spent  in 
the  country.  I  have  during  that  time  been  useful,  and  fre- 
quently happy.  Rarely  a  day  went  past  when  I  had  not 
an  opportunity  of  alleviating  some  sorrow  and  giving  some 
happiness.  Besides,  I  had  liberty,  this  precious  elixir  of 
life  and  health,  and  I  drank  of  it,  and  of  the  fresh  country 
air,  in  full  draughts.  My  health,  both  of  body  and  of  soul, 
improved,  and  I  enjoyed  a  life  free  from  pain,  especially  as 
it  was  not  a  useless  one  for  others.  I  often  remembered 
your  frequently  expressed  wish,  that  you  might  have  beside 
you  some  mouths  into  which  you  could  put  the  food  which 
you  thought  superfluous  for  yourself.  This  pleasure  I  have 
had  almost  daily,  often  at  the  expense  of  my  own  enjoy- 
ment, and  this  little  voluntary  low  diet  did  me  a  great  deal 
of  good.  But  all  this  is  past.  I  am  now  a  zero  in  liberty 
and  in  power.  It  is,  however,  not  with  any  bitter  or  dissat- 
isfied feelings  that  I  have  to-day  thrown  a  sad  glance  over 
the  past  years  of  our  youth.  I  believe  that  a  wiser  will 
than  our  own  has  guided  our  destinies,  and  I  trust  that  the 
remaining  part  of  our  life  may  with  more  reason  be  called 
the  better  part,  as  being  more  useful,  more  active,  and  there- 
fore more  happy.  I  say,  I  hope  so,  because  the  prospects 
are  as  much,  and  perhaps  more,  limited  than  they  have 
ever  been.  All  the  happiness,  all  the  joy  which  I  now  ask 


LETTERS.  143 

is,  to  be  allowed  to  be  a  silent  witness  to  tbat  of  yourself 
and  of  our  sisters.  Alas  !  when  shall  it  be  so  ?  Our  family 
frigate  either  sails  too  much  by  the  head,  or  lies  becalmed, 
or  is  rolling  in  a  ground-swell,  and  since  she  was  launched 
she  never  has  had  a  fair  wind.  Blow,  winds,  blow ! 

I  send  you  herewith  the  verses  which  I  wrote  the  other 
day. 

As  regards  my  authorship,  I  intend  continuing  "  Sketches 
of  Every-day  Life,"  and  also  novels  with  this  title.  I  have 
several  such  in  my  head,  and  have  begun  one,  which  I 
fancy  will  be  interesting  and  useful.  But  these  poor  but- 
terflies want  fresh  air  and  warmth  to  enable  them  to  take 
wing.  I  do  not  intend  devoting  myself  to  composition.  I 
hope,  if  it  pleases  God,  to  do  something  better  in  this  world 
for  myself  and  others.  It  is  a  mere  pastime  for  the  pres- 
ent. 

»THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  SERVICE. 

Hark!  the  chimes  in  mellow  cadence  fall: 
See,  the  church  is  decked  in  festive  state; 

Fain  her  children  round  her  she  would  call; 

Peace  and  joy  she  would  pour  forth  on  all, 
And  to  God  earth's  children  consecrate. 

Winter's  icy  hand  o'er  hill  and  bower 

Spreads  his  shroud  of  snow  in  northern  clime ; 

Yet  on  earth  we  hail  the  sacred  hour 

When  a  bud,  become  Life's  glorious  flower, 
Thorn-encircled  sprang  from  depths  of  time. 

Silver  stars  still  twinkle  in  the  sky, 

Fires  of  joy  are  kindled  o'er  the  earth; 
While  the  angels  tune  their  songs  on  high, 
Jubilant  the  ransomed  bands  reply 

In  the  house  of  God  with  solemn  mirth. 

Say  why  far  and  near,  through  darksome  night, 
Gleam  those  countless  lights,  with  nickering  ray? 

Hark !  a  heaven-born  strain  replies  with  might, 

O'er  the  mists  of  yore  has  dawn'd  a  light, 
Let  us  sing,  "A  child  is  born  to-day !  " 


144  LETTERS. 

May  each  infant  heart  in  hut  or  hall 
Beat  with  joy,  as  dawns  this  happy  day; 

On  their  knees  may  pious  mothers  fall,  — 

Teach  their  babes  with  lisping  voice  to  call 
On  that  Child  in  lowly  crib  that  lay; 

Tell  how  child-like  hearts  to  Him  are  dear; 

How  the  pure,  the  meek,  He  loving  sought ; 
And,  as  runes  in  bark  cut  deep  and  clear, 
On  their  infant  minds  impress  whate'er 

Jesus  did  on  earth  and  what  He  taught. 

Haste,  ye  nations,  to  His  courts  with  song; 

Praise  in  tuneful  strains  His  name  most  blest; 
Children,  pure  in  heart!  the  young,  the  strong; 
Ye  aged !  that  slowly  creep  along, 

Hasten,  in  your  Brother's  arms  to  rest! 

He  hath  lit  a  star  in  darkest  night, 

Through  the  mists  of  life  it  sheds  its  ray; 

Heav'n-born  Hope  its  name,  that  maiden  bright, 

Who  the  pilgrim  guides  to  realms  of  light, 
Where  all  mysteries  shall  be  clear  as  day. 

Dark  the  midnight  hour  that 's  passed  away, — 
Dark  as  death;  but  once,  when  time  shall  cease, 

Dawns  the  morning  of  eternal  day, 

That  with  countless  lights  of  purest  ray, 
Hails  the  reign  of  endless  grace  and  peace. 

STOCKHOLM,  12th  April,  1829. 

I  am  so  eager  to  write  to  you,  that  I  really  believe  that 
the  mail  will  have  to  carry  every  post-day  the  extra  weight 
of  a  letter  from  me.  My  first  thought  when  1  awake  in 
the  morning  is  "  Charlotte."  And  this  thought  is  now  so 
cheering,  that  I  fancy  we  have  got  sunshine  and  spring 
weather,  until  I  look  out  of  the  window  and  see  that  win- 
ter and  snow-storms  have  not  left  us  yet,  in  the  midst  of 
April.  How  I  long  for  a  letter  from  you !  I  am  sure  I 

wish every  success.     "  Brilliant  match  !  "     God  save 

us  from  it !     I  can  never  couple  with  it  the  idea  of  happy 

marriage.     I  believe  that  with you  will  enjoy  real, 

true,  domestic  happiness.     Of  his  character  and  qualities 


LETTERS.  145 

you  will  soon  be  able  to  judge  best  yourself.  I  am  only 
afraid  that  you  expect  too  much.  I  learn  to  value  more 
highly  every  day  in  a  man,  goodness  and  justice.  But  I 
have  such  a  sincere  and  joyful  hope  that  these  rare  house- 
hold gods  shall  change  my  Charlotte's  earthly  home  into  a 
heaven.  By  the  by,  notre  futur  beau-frere  is,  I  suppose, 

now  in  C a  ?     The  other  morning  we  had  an  immense 

deal  to  do  to  remember  his  physiognomy.  Hedda  knew  it  a 
little  better ;  but  you  must  be  so  amiable  as  to  come  to  our 
assistance,  especially  in  what  regards  the  shape  of  his  nose, 
which  has  entirely  escaped  our  memory.  And,  once  more, 
my  dear  Charlotte,  I  must  ask  you  to  write  about  every 
thing ;  the  greatest  trifle  is  now  of  interest.  I  shall  now 
try  to  speak  of  something  else. 

Last  Monday  I  was  at  the  Baroness  F 's  pour  toute  la 

journee,  together  with  the  L s  ;  it  was  very  agreeable, 

not  to  speak  of  the  pleasure  (of  which  I  feel  very  little 
nowadays)  of  being  warmly  complimented  by  the  assem- 
bled company  upon  my  paintings,  of  which  only  two  were 

there,  namely,  that  of  Countess  B in   sepia,  which 

always  hangs  behind  Lady  F 's   chair;   and  that  of 

L in   colors,   which  latter   I   had  just  finished,  and 

which  has  afforded  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  by  the 
pleasure  which  it  gives  his  wife. 

1829. 

After  dispatching  my  letter  to  you  last  Friday,  we  three 
sisters  here  at  home  sat  down  together  on  the  sofa  to  read 
your  letter  over  again ;  made  again  our  commentaries  on 
the  same  ;  and  gave  free  vent  to  our  cheerful  hopes  in  (I 
may  well  say  so)  the  innocence  of  our  hearts,  and  in  our 
affection  for  you.  The  imagination  of  girls,  like  young 
fiery  colts,  is  sometimes  disposed  to  bolt,  and  ours  cleared 
with  a  few  bounds  all  the  five-barred  gates  of  time,  while 
we  thought  of  how  to  furnish  the  house  and  how  to  do  all  the 
needle-work  for  you.  Hedda  had  seen  charming  curtains 
10 


146  LETTERS. 

made  with  patchwork,  which  she  wished  to  take  as  models. 
Agatha  thought  of  pocket-handkerchiefs  and  lots  of  em- 
broidery. I  declared  that  I  had  not  courage  to  venture 
upon  this  kind  of  artistic  needle-work,  but  offered  to  do  all 
sorts  of  hemming,  stitching,  and  felling,  which  might  be 
required.  We  all  agreed  in  being  perfectly  satisfied  with 
the  exterior  of  the  person  in  question,  and  in  our  fervent 
hope,  or  rather  belief,  in  his  being  excellent  and  good.  In- 
form our  mother  soon  of  all.  By  doing  so,  you  do  not  in 
any  case  bind  yourself  to  any  thing  against  your  own  in- 
clination, because  without  inclination  you  ought  certainly 
not  to  unite  yourself  to  him  ;  but  remember  this  good  and 
true  passage  :  — 

"  The  happiness  of  human  life  is  at  best  comparative.  The 
utmost  we  should  hope  for  here  is  such  a  situation  as,  with  a  self- 
approving  mind,  will  carry  us  best  through  the  present  scene  of 
trial ;  such  a  situation  as,  all  circumstances  considered,  is,  upon 
the  whole,  most  eligible  for  us,  though  some  of  its  circumstances 
may  be  disagreeable." 

In  another  place  in  "  Grandison,"  where  Lady  D 

tries  to  persuade  Harriet  to  marry  her  sou,  she  says,  with 
equal  truth :  — 

"  You  are  pious,  dutiful,  benevolent.  Cannot  you,  if  you  are 
unable  to  entertain  for  the  man  who  now  with  so  much  ardor  ad- 
dresses you,  were  you  married  to  him,  the  passion  called  love, 
regard  him  as  gratitude  would  oblige  you  to  prefer  any  other 
man  who  is  assiduous  to  do  you  service  or  pleasure  ?  Cannot  you 
show  him  as  much  good  will  as  you  could  any  other  man  whom  it 
was  in  your  power  to  make  happy  ?  Would  you  esteem  him  less 
than  a  person  absolutely  a  stranger  to  you  ?  The  exertion  of 
your  native  benevolence,  of  your  natural  obligingness,  of  your 
common  gratitude,  of  your  pity,  is  all  that  is  asked  of  you.  The 
exertion  will  make  him  happy ;  and  if  you  retain  that  delight 
which  you  have  hitherto  taken  in  promoting  the  happiness  of 
others,  who  are  not  undeserving,  you  will  be  yourself  not  un- 
happy." 

This  might  at  all  events  be  said  to  you,  unless,  as  I  be- 


LETTERS.  147 

lieve, soon  manages  so  that  all  persuasion  will  be  su- 
perfluous. May  this  be  so ! 

I  might  have  all  sorts  of  trifling  and  funny  things  to  tell 
you,  but  I  have  now  neither  thoughts,  ink,  nor  pen  for  any 
other  than  the  one  subject.  Why  has  not  the  mail  wings  ? 
Write  soon  and  about  every  thing. 

The  other  night,  at  the  Franzens,  my  mother  heard  my 
little  book  spoken  of.  It  was  very  much  liked,  and  maDy 
surmises  were  made  as  to  who  the  author  could  be. 

STOCKHOLM,  30th  June,  1829. 

Lost  in  the  infinite,  an  obscure  Atom  bewailed  his 
nothingness  :  "  Why  was  I  created,"  he  complained,  "  if, 
amongst  all  that  lives,  moves,  and  acts,  I  alone  should  feel 
the  pain  of  my  insignificance  ?  Oh  !  that  I  were  only  a 
dew-drop,  fallen  from  the  clouds  to  refresh  earth's  flowers. 
Oh !  that  I  were  only  a  particle  of  the  fountain's  crystal 
water,  so  salutary  to  earth's  noblest  son,  man ;  or  a 
breath  of  air,  which,  at  the  Creator's  will,  cools  the  weary 
pilgrim's  throbbing  temples  ;  or  a  flower's  fragrant  exhala- 
tion, which,  life-giving  and  lovely,  loses  itself  in  the  air 
which  it  enriches.  Oh  !  that  I  were  for  only  one  moment 
of  my  obscure  life,  a  comfort  to  some  one,  —  then  wouH  I 
bless  my  existence  ! "  Thus  moaned  the  Atom. 

Brightly  the  sun  shone  upon  earth,  giving  life  to  all  and 
blessed  by  all.  The  rippling  waves  caressed  the  shores 
where  flowers  gratefully  bent  over  the  refreshing  stream, 
on  whose  bosom  their  smiling  images  were  mirrored. 
Freshly  and  merrily  the  wind  played  amongst  flowers  and 
foliage.  Evening  came.  The  dew  fell  upon  the  earth, 
which  gratefully  sent  up  endless  fragrance  to  benign 
Heaven.  Nature  in  silence  scattered  her  favors.  Nobody 
and  nothing  either  wanted  or  missed  the  Atom.  He  felt  it, 
and  in  a  dim  void,  he  thought  that  his  life  was  slowly  ending 
or  sinking  like  twilight  into  night.  And  night  rested  upon 
the  Atom ;  but  he  felt  his  own  darker  night.  Then  upon 


148  LETTERS. 

Aurora's  rays  came  the  Angel  of  Consolation,  a  bright 
seraph,  who,  with  inexhaustible  treasures  of  celestial  balm, 
soared  forth  over  the  earth  ;  and  wherever  a  martyr  suffers 
for  truth,  wherever  a  down-trod  ant  feels  a  pang,  there  he 
halts,  gives  life,  enjoyment,  comfort,  forgetfulness,  or  — 
death.  The  seraph  saw  the  suffering  Atom,  and  heard  his 
silent  complaint. 

"  Rejoice,  suffering  Atom  !  "  said  his  friendly  voice. 
"  Thy  wish  has  been  heard  by  an  ever-listening  ear.  A 
tear  of  compassion  and  consolation,  thou  shalt  glisten  in  my 
wreath,  and  fall,  a  drop  of  balm,  upon  Affliction's  burning 
pain." 

He  spoke,  and  already  the  Atom  glittered,  transformed, 
blissful,  and  bright,  like  a  smiling  tear,  upon  a  beautiful 
poppy  in  the  seraph's  wreath.  "  Oh  !  "  whispered  he,  with 
humble  joy,  "  I  am  but  a  drop ;  but,  beautiful  seraph,  if 
sanctified  by  thee,  it  gives  to  me  the  power  to  comfort  a 
sufferer,  then  will  I  praise  my  glorious  destiny,  —  then 
will  I  bless  thee  and  my  eternal  origin." 

Who  is  the  Atom,  dearest  Charlotte,  —  who  else  but 
your  poor  Fredrique,  who  hopes  and  strives  to  become 
this  soothing  drop  of  balm  ?  My  second  volume  of  the 
"  Sketches  of  Every-day  Life  "  will  contain  several  smaller 
pieces,  in  which,  from  my  own  experience,  I  intend  sketch- 
ing, under  the  form  of  real  occurrences,  several  misfor- 
tunes and  sufferings,  and  also  eventual  comfort  and  balm  • 
for  the  same.  I  am  just  now  busy  composing  these.  The 
little  piece,  which  stands  here  above,  is  intended  to  ex- 
press, at  the  conclusion  of  the  book,  the  fervent  wishes 
and  humble  hopes  of  the  "  Atom."  I  wrote  also  the  other 
day  another  piece,  called  "  The  Home  of  Prayer,"  which  I 
now  send  you,  as  I  suppose  it  will  give  you  pleasure  to 
read  it 

We  have  some  relatives  in  town,  my  dearest  little  clan- 
loving  sister,  and  it  was  a  pity  that  you  were  not  present 
at  a  little  dinner-party  which  our  parents  gave  in  honor  of 


LETTERS.  149 

them.    In  the  evening  I  sketched   and   colored  Helene 
Franzeii's  portrait,  and  wrote  underneath  it :  — 

"  Voyez  ici  Helene, 
Nbn  pas  l'He"leiie  de  Troie ; 
Kile  est  bien  mieux,  ma  foi, 
Elle  est  fille  de  Franz^n." 

She  is  very  handsome,  and  her  parents  were  exceedingly 
delighted  with  the  portrait,  which  really  represented  a 
young,  beautiful  Greek  maiden,  and  besides,  it  was  very 
like  her. 

Shall  I  have  no  letter  from  you  to-day  ? 

THE  HOME  OF  PRAYER. 

Billows,  bitter  as  Affliction's  tears,  were  beating  wildly 
and  with  monotonous  sound  against  a  rock,  on  the  dull 
gray  surface  of  which  not  even  the  tiniest  shrub  had  taken 
root,  and  whereon  no  little  bird  ever  perched  chirping,  to 
search  for  a  seed  or  a  grain,  carried  thither  by  the  winds 
of  heaven.  The  thunder  of  malediction  seemed  to  have 
swept  over  that  dreary  rock.  Dark,  cold  clouds  crowned 
its  top.  Yonder,  on  that  awful  height,  a  solitary  being  was 
sitting  —  a  woman.  Known  she  is  to  many  a  child  of 
mortality.  Deadly  pale  was  her  face ;  but  her  paleness 
was  that  of  sorrow.  Calm  she  sat  and  quiet,  like  one  de- 
void of  hope.  Eternal  tears  coursed  each  other,  drop  by 
drop,  down  her  cheeks  slowly,  as,  for  her,  time's  endless 
minutes  vanished.  Closed  were  her  ashy  lips ;  but  the  ex- 
pression which  played  over  her  features,  like  a  dark  genius, 
seemed  distinctly  to  say  these  words :  "  I  suffer,  I  suffer  ! " 
In  her  sunken,  yet  flaming,  eye ;  on  her  forehead,  from 
which  waves  of  gray  hair  were  floating  on  the  icy  blast, 
while  she  was  bent  low,  not  by  age,  but  by  suffering,  — 
stood  written  that  her  heart  was  cankered.  Happy  art 
thou,  who,  in  the  bright  heaven  of  thy  heart,  never  sawest 
even  the  shadow  of  this  picture !  Happy  art  thou,  oh 
favorite  of  angels,  who  canst  say :  "  I  know  her  not ! " 


150  LETTERS. 

Alas !  I  have  known  her.  Already,  in  my  childhood's 
heaven,  I  saw  the  lightning  of  her  bloodshot  eye,  and 
many,  many  know  her  well ;  her  life  is  suffering ;  her 
name  —  Affliction. 

Radiant  in  the  light  of  beatitude,  the  genius  of  heavenly 
love  soared  one  morning  through  space.  A  glance  from 
his  bright  eye  lighted,  like  a  ray  of  the  sun,  upon  the  cloud- 
capped  height  upon  which  Affliction  hopelessly  wept. 

He  beheld  her,  and  he  loved  her  ;  for  she  suffered ;  and 
his  mission  was  to  scatter  happiness  around  him. 

He  bore  her  away  into  his  beautiful  Eden,  tended  her, 
loved  her,  and  comforted  her,  and  tried,  but  in  vain,  to 
teach  her  to  hope. 

She  bore  him  a  daughter,  a  wondrously  beautiful  child, 
on  whose  angelic  face  the  father's  bright  smile  and  the 
mother's  tears  were  blended  in  sweetest  harmony.  They 
called  her  Prayer.  Clasped  were  her  hands,  half-open  her 
lips,  like  a  rose-bud ;  and  her  beautiful  eyes,  in  which  tears 
were  trembling,  were  raised  on  high. 

At  the  sight  of  this  beautiful  being,  Affliction's  torn 
bosom  vibrated  for  the  first  time  with  joy ;  for  the  first 
time  she  gave  a  look  full  of  tender  hope  to  her  heavenly 
consort,  whose  eye,  overflowing  with  happiness  and  love, 
rested  upon  her.  She  pressed  to  her  heart  her  first-born 
darling,  sighed,  smiled,  and  looked  forward  into  the  future 
with  confidence.  But  in  Affliction's  soul  joy  lingered  only 
for  a  moment  Longing  for  her  dark  home,  she  returned 
to  it ;  but  with  one  comfort,  —  that  she  had  given  birth  to 
Prayer ;  and  with  one  hope,  —  that  she  one  day  should 
cease  to  exist. 

v  Under  her  father's  care,  the  beautiful  daughter  grew  up 
amongst  heaven's  flowers,  disporting  with  heaven's  angels. 
But  the  more  she  became  developed,  the  more  she  felt  a 
dim,  half-understood  presentiment  that  there  was  not  her 
right  home.  She  had  tears ;  and  these  strangers  in  the 
abodes  of  light  were  unknown  to  heaven's  children.  The 


LETTERS.  151 

eternal  and  unchanging  beauty  of  things  on  high  were  in 
disharmony  with  her  inner  being  —  her  soul.  Longing, 
she  cast  her  eyes  downwards,  and  saw  in  foreboding 
dreams  a  lower  world,  not  far  separated  from  her  mother's 
home,  where  dusky  clouds  often  darkened  the  sun  ;  where 
vapors  curled  over  rose-gardens,  and  where  heaven  itself 
shed  tears  over  a  green-clad  world.  And  her  heart  beat, 
and  she  sighed,  "  Thither,  oh,  thither ! " 

The  genius  of  heavenly  love,  marked  with  loving  looks 
his  daughter's  silent  sadness.  And  when  the  time  had 
arrived,  the  hour  which  Jehovah  had  appointed,  he  took 
her  hand,  and  soared  with  her  through  cieation's  endless 
space.  They  approached  a  star,  called  Earth,  where  the 
seraph's  eye  with  melancholy  joy  found  again  images  con- 
genial to  her  heart  and  soul.  Bright  tears  glittered  in  the 
bells  of  flowers.  The  sun  burst  through  heavy  clouds. 
Summer  days  and  winter  nights  rested  alternately  on  the 
shadowy  vales,  and  gloomy  fogs  rolled  over  its  loveliest 
landscapes. 

"  Here  let  us  linger,  —  here  let  us  rest ! "  whispered  she, 
beseechingly.  They  lowered  their  flight  and  alighted 
upon  a  hill,  from  which  wide-spreading  cedars  threw  their 
lengthening  evening  shadows.  Sweetly  smiling,  the  seraph 
looked  round,  looked  towards  heaven,  over  whose  face 
bright  clouds  were  wafted  by  gentle  winds,  and  then  at  her 
heavenly  guide,  saying :  "  Here  it  is  good  to  remain  ;  here 
is  my  home  ;  here  let  me  stay  ! " 

"  Daughter  of  my  love,"  replied  her  father,  "  yes,  here 
thou  shalt  stay,  —  here  is  thy  home ;  Jehovah  wills  it  so ; 
here  is  the  cradle  of  immortal  beings  —  man's  native  land. 
Here,  under  suffering,  are  born  eternal  joys.  But,  in  or- 
der that  man  shall  not  miss  his  goal,  thou  shalt  be  near 
him,  a  link  between  me  and  my  eternal  home,  which  shall 
be  his  also  one  day.  Thou  shalt  teach  him  to  pray  —  that 
is,  to  trust  and  hope.  Thou  shalt  watch  at  his  cradle  and 
at  his  grave.  Thou  shalt  teach  him,  in  all  changes,  to  look 


152  LETTERS. 

upwards,  that  a  ray  of  the  Eternal's  brightness  may  throw 
light  into  his  soul.  Consolation  shall  be  thy  name;  thy 
mission,  a  woman's,  to  comfort  and  support." 

So  saying,  he  spread  his  dazzling  pinions,  and,  slowly 
soaring  upwards,  fixed  a  look  full  of  measureless  love  upon 
the  daughter,  who,  kneeling,  with  clasped  hands  and 
smiling  in  her  tears,  prayed :  "  Oh !  let  it  be  so ;  oh,  my 
father,  my  happiness  is  to  do  thy  will.  Morning  and 
evening,  in  the  bright  hours  of jday,  in  the  silent  watches 
of  night,  I  will  direct  man's  looks  and  man's  heart  to  thee. 

O         • 

But,  that  I  may  be  always  full  of  hope,  full  of  comfort  and 
joy ;  that  my  smile  may  always  beam  triumphant  over  my 
tears,  oh  !  therefore,  be  ever  near  me,  abandon  me  never, 
my  father !  " 

The  genius  of  heavenly  love  vanished  behind  a  veil  of 
clouds  out  of  the  supplicant's  sight ;  but  a  breath  full  of 
heavenly  sweetness  fanned  her  fair  curls  and  gently  kissed 
her  forehead,  cheek,  and  eyelids ;  and  she  felt  conscious 
of  a  father's  blessing.  Tremblingly  rustled  the  cedar- 
branches,  and  "  Never ! "  softly  whispered  with  a  sound 
as  if  out  of  eternity,  reached  her  ear.  She  felt  that  he  was 
ever  near  her. 

Earth  became  Prayer's  home.  Prayer  became  man's 
good  angel.  She  watched  at  his  cradle,  watched  over  his 
youth,  comforted  him  in  every  period  of  his  life,  cheered 
his  old  age ;  and,  amongst  the  foliage  of  the  trees  which 
overshadowed  his  mortal  resting-place,  she  was  still  heard 
to  breathe  peace  and  joy,  —  whispering  that  now  she  had 
borne  him  home,  and  there  he  did  not  need  her  aid  any 
longer. 

Consolation  she  was  called.  She  taught  man  to  smile 
in  tears  —  to  hope. 

And  we,  my  brethren  and  sisters,  we,  whom  she  longed 
to  comfort  and  make  happy,  let  us  not  misunderstand  the 
sweet  seraph;  let  us  follow  her  teaching.  Let  us  pray 
with  childhood's  stammering  lips,  in  our  youth,  in  man- 


LETTERS.  153 

hood,  in  old  age,  in  temptation,  in  joy  and  in  sorrow,  in 
our  last  hour,  in  the  hour  of  strife,  and  in  the  hour  of 
victory  —  let  us  pray,  let  us  pray  ! 

ARSTA,  19th  November,  1830. 

Heaven  be  praised  !  the  weather  is  fine,  bright,  and 
mild.  You  have,  I  hope,  a  pleasant  journey.  We  speak 
of  you  continually ;  make  remarks  on  the  weather  every 
other  minute,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  find  this 
to  be  one  of  the  most  interesting  topics.  My  dearest  Char- 
lotte !  Since  we  parted  from  one  another  I  have  been  like 
sour,  unripe  fruit.  I  was  tolerably  calm  when  you  left; 
but  the  agony  began  soon  after.  Yesterday,  all  the  after- 
noon and  evening,  I  felt  a  dreadful  longing  to  see  you 
once  more  ;  to  embrace  you,  weep,  and  bless  you,  and  to 
pray  you  to  forgive  every  little  unkindness  of  which  I  may 
have  been  guilty  towards  you.  My  tears  are  flowing  while 
I  am  writing  this.  Charlotte,  my  dearest  Charlotte !  will 
you  perhaps  one  day  forget  how  warmly,  how  long,  how 
sincerely  we  have  been  united?  Will  the  novel  scenes 
and  new  relations  into  which  you  enter,  the  novel  sensa- 
tions which  gradually  will  fill  your  soul,  ever  let  old  mem- 
ories wane  ?  I  dread  it  sometimes.  But,  above  all,  may 
you  be  happy  —  feel  yourself  happy.  That  is  all  I  want. 

I  have  no  heart  for  brothers-in-law ;  I  feel  that  they  take 

from  me  what  I  hold  dearest  —  my  sisters.  But may 

perhaps  one  day  be  able  to  convert  me.  If  he  makes  his 
wife  happy,  he  shall  in  me  find  an  affectionate  and  grateful 
sister. 

Now  for  a  sketch  of  every-day  life.  In  rain,  wind,  and 
in  darkness,  Hedda  and  I  drove  to  Arsta,  while  you  and 
your  husband  drove  in  another  direction  under  the  same 
celestial  signs.  We  got  soaked,  shaken,  and  fatigued,  but 
were  concerned  only  about  you.  In  Egyptian  darkness  we 
came  to  old  Castle  Blow-hard,  where  we  found  our  mother 
and  Agatha  cheerful,  comfortable,  and  well,  longing  to  chat 


154  LETTERS. 

about  you  and  yours  :  we  have  hitherto  done  this  most  in- 
defatigably.  It  is  an  inexhaustible  well.  Our  mother's 
thoughts  are  stalking  about  everywhere,  building  castles 
in  the  air  here  and  there.  "  L'etoffe  a  pris  son  pli." 

We  are  busy  setting  up  our  little  dumb  pensioner.  It 
is  not  yet  decided  where  to  dispose  of  him. 

I  must  now  finish,  dear  Charlotte,  because  I  have  both 
headache  and  heart-ache.  Thank  God,  you  have  such  beau- 
tiful weather  for  travelling !  Our  mother's  best  love  to  you 
and  to  your  husband,  in  which  Hedda  joins.  It  is  pleasant 
here  and  quiet;  nevertheless,  I  am  peevish,  and  could 
make  sour  faces  at ;  but,  after  all,  that  would  be  silly. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Charlotte !  Half  of  my  heart,  fare- 
well !  Your 

FREDKIQUE. 

AESTA,  30th  November,  1830. 

What  a  delightful  little  letter  you  wrote  to  me  from 
Djula.  We  had  just  finished  our  tea  and  our  potatoes 
when  it  arrived.  In  fact,  I  had  already  gone  to  bed, 
fatigued  and  tired  of  the  world.  Your  letter  was  brought 
to  me  ;  my  mother  and  sisters  all  assembled  round  my 
bedside.  I  read  it  aloud;  but  when  I  came  to  where 

you  say,  " has  few  who  can  be  compared  with  him  ;  1 

am  happy!"  I  could  read  no  more.  I  wept  for  joy,  and 
sympathetic  tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  the  smiling  listeners. 
Also  in  August's  eyes  tears  were  seen  to  tremble,  when  the 
following  evening  this  passage  was  read  to  him.  You  see, 
my  dearest  Charlotte,  how  beloved  you  are  by  all !  Re- 
member, my  dear  sister,  that  when  you  are  happy,  you 
thereby  add  to  the  happiness  of  others.  I  wrote  my  first 

letter  to  you  under  very  melancholy  feelings.     May 

pardon  my  lamentations  and  my  doubts.  I  sincerely  be- 
lieve that,  with  a  husband  like  him,  it  depends  only  upon 
yourself  to  be  happy,  and  therefore  I  ought  to  be  tran- 
quil. The  description  of  your  journey  hitherto  sounds 


LETTERS.  155 

very  pleasant  God  be  praised  for  every  happy  day  you 
have ! 

I  ought  now  to  speak  a  little  of  ourselves.  To-morrow 
by  this  time  we  shall  probably  be  in  town.  I  cannot  say 
that  this  prospect  delights  me ;  but,  of  course,  every  thing 
can  be  done.  We  sisters  in  the  beginning  have  to  occupy 
our  old  rooms,  and  that  pleases  me.  Our  mother  pictures 
to  herself  this  winter  as  a  little  "  partie  de  plaisir ; "  but  I 
expect  to  find  it  very  dull.  She  intends  to  receive  visits, 
to  issue  invitations,  etc.,  etc. 

May  Agatha  remain  as  well  as  she  is  now  !  As  to  my- 
self, I  intend  this  winter  to  read,  to  write,  to  paint  a  great 
deal.  I  hear  from  all  quarters  much  that  is  gratifying 
and  flattering  about  my  "  Sketches,"  but  it  makes  very 
little  impression  upon  me :  and  then  how  far  is  it  not  to 
the  stars  ;  and  to  him  who  strives  upwards,  what  are  these 
exhalations  floating  upon  and  dispersed  by  the  winds  ? 
Meanwhile  I  long  to  write,  and  may  perhaps  in  the  course 
of  the  winter  publish,  the  third  volume  of  the  "  Sketches." 
Since  you  left,  I  have  written  a  little  lively  piece  for  this 
volume,  which  I  have  entitled,  "  Spring  in  the  North." 
Perhaps  you  would  like  to  read  it.  Here  you  have  it. 

*  SPRING  IN  THE  NORTH. 

Lo  1  the  Queen  of  Spring  one  day, 

Angrily  her  pinions  folding, 

Gave  her  son,  young  May,  a  scolding: 

"  The  first  of  May ! 

Alack  the  day ! 

Art  not  ashamed,  thou  wicked  boy  ? 

Weeping  still, 

Damp  and  chill, 

Dost  thou  come 

Looking  glum, 

Marring  all  our  hope  and  joy." 

"  Thou  hadst  orders 

O'er  our  borders 

Flowers  to  spread,  and  azure  skies; 

To  deck  the  woods 


156  LETTERS. 

With  fragrant  buds, 

Sporting  like  the  butterflies. 

Words  of  mirth, 

In  our  North, 

Thou  should'st  speak  to  every  soul: 

'  Lo !  I  bring 

Lovely  Spring; 

FD1  with  wine  the  sparkling  bowl !  ' 

"  What  a  shame 

To  take  that  name 

Given  you  in  the  almanac; 

'  Month  of  flowers,' 

Gracious  powers ! 

Say  how  dare  you  thus  to  mock  ? 

Pouting?  — Ha! 

Mind,  mamma 

All  such  tempers  soon  will  settle ; 

If  you  dare, 

I  declare  — 

I  '11  whip  you  with  my  first  young  nettle  1  " 

"  Mother,  why," 
Cried  the  boy, 

"  Do  you  take  me  thus  to  task  ? 
Brother  April  scold,  I  pray,  — 
He  was  lazy,  would  not  ask 
The  sun  to  melt  the  snow  away; 
Let  it  lie  on  lake  and  plain ; 
Left  old  Boreas  free  to  reign ; 
And  when  I  at  length  came  forth 
On  my  merry  birthday  morn, 
Hailed  with  joy  by  all  the  North, 
Fain  would  I  this  earth  adorn : 
But  'twas  still  so  cold  and  nipping, 
That  I  quaked  with  aguish  fears, 
With  my  garments  we^t  and  dripping, 
And  my  face  all  blurred  with  tears." 

Quoth  April  then, 

With  angry  mien, 

"  Who  such  wretched  falsehood  utters  ? 

Have  n't  I  washed  and  cleaned  the  gutters  ? 

Have  n't  I  broken  up  the  ice, 

Swept  the  roofs  quite  clean  and  nice? 

On  my  honor  I  declare, 

Your  demands  are  most  unfair ! 


LETTERS.  157 

Surely,  if  the  truth  you  'd  search, 

I  've  battled  hard  with  brother  March; 

With  all  kinds  of  wind  and  weather 

That  I  e'er  could  bring  together, 

I  have  tried  to  force  my  way 

Through  his  serried,  firm  array 

Of  some  twenty  odd  degrees 

Of  cold,  enough  your  blood  to  freeze. 

I  have  sought  through  shield  and  spear, 

By  fair  means  a  path  to  clear, 

Where  I  might  on  riving  wing 

Plant  the  banner  of  the  Spring. 

Vain  my  prayers.     '  A  vaunt ! '  quoth  he. 

Thus  the  fault  lies  not  with  me." 

With  a  pout, 

March  cried  out: 

"  Must  I  all  these  burdens  carry  ? 

Sure  I  'm  bound  to  sweep  the  tomb 

Of  old  uncle  February; 

Filling  all  the  North  with  gloom, 

With  a  mountain's  weight  it  lay, 

Held  o'er  earth  its  icy  sway. 

Nought  remained  for  me  the  while, 

Save  drive  my  plough  1  across  the  soil, 

On  the  snow  without  delay, 

Till  the  drifts  were  cleared  away. 

Thus  I  did  my  best,  you  see, 

In  frost-nipped  humility! " 

So  said  March.    The  Queen  of  Spring 
Stood  awhile,  considering 
Which  of  all  the  urchins  three 
Most  deserved  severity. 
Each  threw  blame  upon  his  brother; 
But  the  wise  and  prudent  mother 
Bit  her  lips  with  action  grave, 
Thought  a  moment,  and  then  gave, 
With  a  rod  of  nettles  bound, 
To  each  one  a  whipping  sound. 
How  the  wretched  boys  did  squall ! 
How  they  promised,  one  and  all, 
To  amend  their  evil  ways, 
To  call  forth  the  sun's  warm  rays, 
Scattering  flowers  o'er  hill  and  plain, 
Till  the  earth  should  smile  again ! 

i  The  snow-plough,  used  in  Sweden  to  clear  away  the  snow-drifts. 


158  LETTERS. 

To-day  we  have  boarded  and  lodged  our  little  "  Son  of 
Misery  "  with  "  good  "  Mr.  Gardener,  at  any  rate  for  the  first 
six  months.  The  kind  Christine  has  promised  to  take 
most  tender  care  of  the  poor  little  child  ;  perhaps  he  may 
be  able  to  learn  to  think  and  articulate.  He  left  us  well 
and  amply  provided  for  with  every  thing.  When  I  this 
morning  marked  his  linen,  I  stamped  it,  without  thinking 
of  it,  with  a  small  cross,  in  shape  like  those  which  are  here 
put  upon  graves.  I  wonder  whether  there  was  any  thing 
prophetic  in  it  for  the  child.  Our  mother  and  I  did  cele- 
brate the  day  of  Jubilee  in  church.  H bawled  dread- 
fully about  our  forefathers  being  all  in  utter  darkness  and 
the  shadow  of  death.  The  sun  —  this  beautiful  image  of 
intellectual  light  —  broke  through  heavy  clouds,  and  throw- 
ing now  and  then  his  brilliant  rays  into  the  church,  was  the 
best  part  of  the  whole  service. 

Farewell,  dearest  sister ;  millions  of  greetings  from  all 
at  home  ;  also  to  your  husband. 

STOCKHOLM,  7th  December. 

You  are  a  dear,  kind,  darling  one  for  writing  so  often 
and  so  fully.  You  cannot  imagine  how  greedy  we  are  for 
your  letters  ;  how  we  all  gather  round  every  one  of  them, 
when  they  arrive,  like  so  many  flies  round  the  cream  ;  and 
how  we  taste  and  taste,  again  and  again,  and  chat,  and  won- 
der, and  are  delighted  with  you  and  your  journey.  I  re- 
ceived this  morning  your  letter  from  Hellinge,  but  1  am 
most  anxious  to  hear  something  of  you  from  Christianstad. 
I  believe  you  will  arrive  there  to-day.  Oh,  if  I  were  there 
to  welcome  you !  I  shall  now  say  something  about  our- 
selves. My  dearest  Charlotte,  do  not  get  frightened,  when, 
for  the  sake  of  truth,  I  must  confess  that  I  have  not  had 
courage  to  write  to  you  sooner  from  Stockholm,  because 
every  thing  here  has  appeared  to  me  so  heavy,  so  cold,  and 
even  intolerable  ;  but,  thank  God !  it  looks  considerably 
brighter  now,  and  will  no  doubt  become  still  brighter. 


LETTERS.  159 

Hedda  has  also  been  very  low-spirited.  Agatha  alone  has 
kept  up  her  courage.  However,  we  are  now  all  in  good 
spirits.  The  first  discomfort  was  not  to  be  avoided.  To- 
day especially  we  are  all  very  animated  on  account  of  the 
occurrences  of  the  day,  —  Brinckman's  letter,  Franzen's, 
Wallin's,  and  others'  overwhelming  eulogia.  What  a 
wonderfully  fine  letter !  —  and  this  I  am  to  reply  to  in 
writing  ?  In  what  way  ?  That  I  do  not  know  yet,  but  I 
will  tell  you  next  time  I  write  to  you.  Reuterborg  has 
been  here.  He  said,  "  Go  where  you  will,  you  hear  noth- 
ing spoken  of  but  a  Lady  Bremer,  or  Miss  Bremer,  who 
has  written,  etc.,  etc.,  and  to  whom  verses  have  been  dedi- 
cated." Farewell,  my  dear  sister.  Our  mother  is  kind 
and  cheerful.  Possibly  things  may  become  better  at  home. 
I  shall  write  more  by  next  mail.  Kind  remembrances  to 
your  husband. 

Hedda  insists  upon  copying  Brinckman's  letter,  "in 
order,"  as  she  says,  "that  you  may  get  it  quite  fresh." 
Fresh  !  That  may  be,  but  sugared  over  and  spiced  beyond 
measure.  I  inclose  it  herewith :  — 

"  STOCKHOLM,  6th  December,  1830. 

"  Not  without  fear  of  being  considered  like  an  uninvited  guest, 
too  bold  and  intruding,  do  I  now  seize  the  pen  in  order  to  pay 
homage  to  an  amiable  and  charming  Muse,  who  cannot  conde- 
scend to  a  personal  acquaintance  with  all  those  whom  her  genius 
has  filled  with  respect  and  admiration. 

"  But  I  have  hitherto  not  gone  beyond  the  wish  that,  by  some 
well-known  friend,  I  might  be  introduced  to  the  illustrious  Un- 
known, and  my  noble  friend  Franzen  has  promised  to  undertake 
this  kindly  office,  '  as  soon  as  circumstances  permit  it.'  But  in 
what  most  nearly  concerns  genius  and  the  heart,  one  can  rarely 
rely  except  upon  oneself;  deign  therefore  to  pardon  my  warm, 
perhaps  too  impatient,  longing  to  express  personally  to  you  my 
gratitude  for  the  greatest  and  holiest  enjoyments,  which  the  polite 
literature  of  my  native  country  has  for  a  long  time  afforded  me. 

"  Franzen's  sensitive  Muse  first  drew  my  attention  to  the 
'  Sketches  of  Evcry-day  Life,'  of  which  the  very  superficial  review 


160  LETTERS. 

in  the  periodical  '  Heimdal '  did  not  give  me  any  more  favorable 
or  higher  ideas  than  of  many  other  ephemeral,  pretty,  poetical 
effusions,  of  which  that  periodical  has  issued  baptismal  certificates. 
But  how  shall  I  be  able  to  describe  to  you  the  deep  impression  of 
true  delight  and  warm  interest  which  the  first  perusal  of  your 
work  made  upon  me,  whilst  reading  it  in  a  single  night.  Full  of 
this  impression,  I  hastened  on  the  following  day  to  Franzen,  anx- 
ious to  express  to  him  the  gratitude  which  I  felt  for  the  veracious 
testimony  which  he  had  given  to  the  younger  sister  of  his  Muse, 
and  telling  him  that  I  would  willingly  make  a  pilgrimage  of  many, 
many  miles  with  naked  feet,  in  order  to  behold  the  features  and 
listen  to  the  voice  of  her  who,  in  a  manner  so  living,  so  tender,  so 
witty,  and  so  affecting,  takes  us  by  storm  in  every  line  of  her 
splendid  poetry. 

'"  Unglaublich  !  Wie  !  Ein  solches  Madchen  hatte  mein  hand 
und  ich,  und  ich  erfahr'  es  heute  zum  ersten  Mai  ? ' 

"  So  exclaimed  Don  Carlos,  and  still  he  found  himself  deceived ! 
I  know,  however,  for  certain,  whom  I  can  trust.  An  artful,  co- 
quettish beauty,  such  as  Eboli,  may  perhaps,  during  a  few  moments 
of  conversation,  act  a  character  foreign  to  herself;  but  a  poetess, 
such  as  she  who  has  written  these  '  Sketches,'  is  ' herself  alone;' 
she  is,  whether  in  the  playfulness  or  in  the  earnestness  of  her 
genius,  and  in  all  other  circumstances  of  life,  genuine,  innocent, 
and  true  to  her  soul's  inspirations. 

"  See  here,  my  noble  benefactress !  my  candid  confession  of 
faith.  I  am  proud  that  our  literature  can  boast  of  such  an  author- 
ess; but  it  is  humiliating  to  our  critics,  that  the  first  volume  of 
your  work  should  have  vegetated  amongst  them  in  silence  for 
more  than  two  years,  and  that  not  one  amongst  them  all  should 
have  discovered  the  high  lineage  and  innate  wealth  of  the  modest 
stranger.  But  then  you  have  restricted  yourself  to  '  e  very-day 
life,'  and  it  is  not  there  where  these  gentlemen  try  to  discover  the 
realms  of  poetry,  but  rather  among  the  stately  palaces  of  the 
great.  I  am  acquainted  with  the  choicest  literature  of  most  coun- 
tries, but  I  defy  them  all  to  produce,  in  the  genre  which  you  have 
chosen,  more  beautiful  or  truer  pictures,  not  only  of  reality,  but 
also  of  the  ideal  world  which  lives  and  breathes  within  us.  No- 
body in  our  country,  either  man  or  woman,  has,  as  far  as  I  am 
aware,  hitherto  understood  living  events  more  thoroughly,  with 
the  penetrating  eye  of  genius,  nor  drawn  with  a  more  masterly 


LETTERS.  161 

hand  their  varied  forms,  and  the  miniatures  of  domestic  life.  And 
all  this  with  such  genuine,  unmistakable  womanliness!  I  have 
heard  some  silly  maidens  say,  '  She  must  surely  have  been  assisted 
by  some  man,  some  scholar.'  Pardon  them  ;  they  know  not  what 
they  say.  It  was  therefore  with  unfeigned  delight  that  I  heard 
the  most  appropriate  opinion  of  your  work  expressed  by  a  noble- 
hearted  and  highly  intelligent  Countess,  who  is  not  unworthy  to 
be  ranked  amongst  the  congenials  of  your  own  soul.  She  pointed 
out  to  me  many  passages  which  she  had  marked.  '  Look  there,' 
she  said,  '  my  friend,  what  none  of  you  others  would  have  found 
out ;  you  may  thank  Heaven  if  you  can  feel  and  appreciate  the 
peculiar  excellence  of  such  holy  revelations  of  female  genius  ! ' 

"  But  I  did  not  intend  to  produce  an  improved  edition  of  the 
certificate  of  '  Heimdal.'  1  only  wanted  to  signify  my  longing, 
and  remind  Franzen  of  his  promise  that,  if  ever  you  should  come 
to  Stockholm,  he  would  ask  permission  to  introduce  his  friend  to 
our  mutual  enchantress.  I  hand  this  letter  over  to  him.  May  he 
speak  more,  eloquently  in  my  favor  than  I  am  able  to  do  it.  Be 
gracious  and  merciful,  and  do  not  say  '  No  ! ' 

"  A  stranger's  greeting,  deep  respect,  and  sincere  devotion. 

"v.  B." 

STOCKHOLM,  12th  December,  1830. 

It  is  absurd,  absurd,  absurd  !  I  believe  that  some  kind 
fairy  has  pronounced  some  hocus-pocus  on  me  and  my  little 
book.  The  sensation  which  it  creates  is  quite  ridiculous. 
It  is  now  the  ton  to  read  it,  especially  in  the  fashionable 
world.  It  is  spoken  of  everywhere,  and  so  is  its  author- 
ess, who  cannot  now  any  longer  hope  to  remain  anony- 
mous. I  am  obliged  to  listen  to  so  many  fine  things,  that 
I  am  only  astonished  that  they  do  not  make  me  quite  giddy 
(which,  after  all,  they  do  not).  "  Medborgaren  "  (the  news- 
paper) has  also  reviewed  the  work,  and  in  a  most  flattering 
manner  it  speaks  of  the  unusual  talent  of  the  authoress ; 
and  "  The  H Family,"  especially,  gets  the  most  splen- 
did encomiums.  Palmblad  has  written  to  G strb'm  that 

the  book  meets  with  such  a  rapid  sale,  that  he  must  pro- 
vide a  second  edition  thereof. 
11 


162  LETTERS. 

Last  night  we  were  very  animated  at  home.  Franzen 
came  with  Brinckman,  who  was  almost  half  crazy.  He 
actually  courted  me.  I  was  fairly  overwhelmed  with  flat- 
tering compliments.  Brinckman  quoted  my  book  contin- 
ually, saying,  "  that  I  had  not  read  it  properly  myself." 
Franzen  also  was  full  of  kindness  and  praises.  Anxious 
to  make  his  protege  shine  as  much  as  possible,  he  asked  to 
be  allowed  to  see  my  paintings.^  They  went  through  them 
all ;  and  when  Brinckman  heard  that  I  also  was  musicienne, 
he  exclaimed,  "Indeed,  I  begin  to  get  quite  tired  now." 
The  conversation  was  exceedingly  animated.  Mrs.  De 

R and  some  other  friends  also  came  to  see  us-     Then 

I  got  some  more  rosemary.  Mrs.  De  R had  the  pre- 
vious night  been  to  two  large  parties.  She  told  me  that 
there  was  nothing  else  spoken  of  except  my  "  Sketches." 
Brinckman  finished  by  going  down  on  his  knees  to  me, 
when,  after  a  three  hours'  visit,  he  took  leave.  Your  hus- 
band would  have  been  very  much  amused  if  he  had  seen 
Hedda  and  Brinckman  together.  He  made  her  his  confi- 
dente,  continually  whispering  in  her  ear  all  sorts  of  things 
about  my  book,  giving  her  now  and  then  little  "  pats,"  in 
order  to  awaken  her  attention,  which  "  pats  "  Hedda  seemed 
inclined  to  pay  back.  She  expressed  herself  to  him,  once 
or  twice,  in  such  honest  and  plain  terms,  that  they  formed 

a  ludicrous  contrast  to  his  sugared  compliments.    B an, 

who  was  here  the  evening  before  last,  asked  me  whether 
we  were  not  overrun  by  all  sorts  of  people  coming  to  look 
at  me,  such  a  sensation  has  my  talent  as  an  authoress  cre- 
ated. In  a  word,  my  dear  Charlotte,  it  is  absurd,  absurd, 
absurd!  I  do  not  think  that  all  this  would  amuse  me 
much  if  our  sisters  were  not  so  delighted  with  it.  In  fact, 
Agatha  jumped  about  like  a  fish  out  of  water.  But  I  must 
say  good-by  to  the  anonymous.  Vogue  la  galere !  Blow, 
winds,  blow !  I  say,  and  by  that  I  mean  a  prayer  to  my 
Muse,  who  also  seems  willing  to  hear  my  prayer.  I  am 
working  at  the  continuation  of  "  The  H Family." 


LETTERS.  163 

Franzen  says  that  people  expect  to  see  the  blind  one  act- 
ing a  part.  She  shall  do  so. 

Sunday,  the  13th. 

The  day  before  yesterday  all  was  brilliant ;  last  night 
every  thing  was  flat  and  dull.  So  changeable  is  the  wind  ! 
August  was  not  at  all  well ;  to-day  he  is  seriously  ill. 
Agatha  has  had  an  attack  of  her  old  rheumatic  complaint, 
and  is  not  well  yet ;  but  she  has  good  courage,  and  then  all 
is  well. 

STOCKHOLM,  23d  January,  1831. 

Yesterday  I  received  your  letter  of  the  16th.  I  was 
very  much  touched  by  it,  and  it  made  me  very  happy,  be- 
cause the  state  of  your  mind,  which  it  shows,  is  so  beauti- 
ful, so  noble,  so  amiable,  that,  as  surely  as  the  spring  brings 
flowers  in  its  train,  so  surely  must  it  bring  with  it  happiness 
and  all  its  joyous  flowers.  I  feel  convinced  that  in  another 
respect  also  you  will  feel  yourself  more  and  more  happy, 
when,  as  you  say  yourself,  the  memory  of  a  gloomy  life  be- 
gins to  fade  from  your  view,  and  at  last  dies  altogether. 
Yes,  a  good  and  noble  husband  is  the  chief  good  in  mar- 
ried life ;  such  a  husband  throws  over  all  circumstances  in 
life  thousands  of  comforts  and  charms,  of  which  formerly 

one  could  have  no  idea.  God  bless  !  When  you 

get  quite  settled  in  your  new  home,  you  will  surely  find 
yourself  still  more  comfortable.  Write  to  me.  dearest 
Charlotte,  especially  about  your  state  of  mind. 

Not  every  thing  at  home  is  quite  as  it  ought  to  be.  Our 
little  Agatha,  with  whose  health  and  spirits  we  have  been 
so  pleased,  has  for  the  last  fortnight  been  rather  on  the  de- 
cadence in  both.  The  other  evening,  when,  in  spite  of  her 
ill  health,  she  was  out,  we  had  a  brilliant  soiree  at  the 
"  Singing  Union."  The  Royal  Family  was  there,  and  had 
a  few  words  to  say  to  every  body.  We  sang  choruses  from 
"  Guillaume  Tell,"  which  succeeded  famously,  and  made  a 
splendid  effect.  That  evening  ended  in  a  brilliant  way  for 
me.  Acquaintances  and  strangers  of  the  fashionable  world 


164  LETTERS. 

flocked  round  me,  and  showered  eulogia  and  thanks  upon 
the  little  authoress,  who  curtsied  and  thanked  and  thanked 

again.  Baron  A requested  to  be  introduced  to  me. 

Our  mother  was  sitting  the  whole  evening,  hearing  how  the 

Countess  Sp ,  a  whole  row  of  the  ladies  of  the  court, 

and  a  great  number  of  gentlemen,  had  been  discussing  my 
"  Sketches,"  and  the  merits  thereof.  The  sensation  which 
the  little  book  is  creating  is  indeed  ridiculous.  It  is  the 
regular  souper-conversation  all  over  the  town  (which,  be  it 
said  in  parenthesis,  does  not  mean  much),  and  not  a  day 
goes  past  without  my  hearing  what  has  been  said  of  it  here 
and  there,  and  always  in  praise  of  it.  In  the  booksellers' 
shops,  all  the  copies  have  been  sold.  Palmblad  wrote  a 
few  days  ago,  to  say  that  he  must  print  a  second  edition  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and  that  for  that  purpose  he  must  em- 
ploy three  compositors,  because  there  is  a  desperate  run 
upon  his  agent  in  Stockholm,  by  all  the  booksellers,  for 
more  copies.  I  wonder  how  long  this  will  last  ?  It  has 
become,  I  am  afraid,  a  mere  matter  of  fashion  —  mais 
n'importe  !  —  but  upon  this  matter  of  fashion  I  shall  this 
year  earn  three  hundred  thirty  rix  dollars,  which  is  delight- 
ful !  Perhaps  I  shall  in  future  reap  as  much  severe  criti- 
cism as  eulogy  now.  May  it  find  me  equally  calm,  or, 
rather,  indifferent ;  but  of  that  I  am  not  quite  sure. 

Next  winter,  my  dearest  Charlotte,  Agatha  and  I  are 
going  to  visit  you.  We  intend  taking  the  two  rooms  on 
the  ground  floor,  and  we  wish  to  board  with  you.  May  we 
not  do  so  ?  How  pleasant  it  would  be  !  But  "  1'homme 
propose  et  Dieu  dispose !  " 

Our  little  dumb  boy  has  now  closed  his  eyes.  He  died 
after  about  a  month's  decline.  Peace  be  with  him  ! 

You  have  probably  seen  by  the  newspapers  that  the 
Swedish  Academy  has  awarded  me  a  gold  medal  on  ac- 
count of  my  authorship.  It  would,  perhaps,  have  been 
possible  to  have  warded  off  this  honor,  if  the  "  Afton- 
bladet "  had  not  trumpeted  forth  the  news  all  over  town, 
before  Franzen  had  spoken  of  it  with  my  mother. 


LETTERS.  165 

If  you  should  happen  to  see  any  remarkable  personages, 
any  real  originals,  please  describe  them  to  me.  I  want  to 
make  use  of  them  in  my  "  Sketches."  But  pray,  dearest, 
mention  this,  or  whatever  else  I  write  to  you  about  my  au- 
thorship, to  nobody.  People  are  in  general  very  fright- 
ened of  being  described  in  books,  and  in  our  country  an 
authoress  is  often  looked  upon  as  a  regular  scarecrow. 
If  I  should  come  to  Christianstad,  I  wish  to  be  known  there 

merely  as  the  sister  of  Mrs. ,  which  I  am  sure  will  be 

the  best  letter  of  introduction  for  me. 

CHRISTIANSTAD,  October  25th,  1831. 

MY  DEAREST  MOTHER,  —  Ah !  what  a  joy  it  is  to  be 
able  to  turn  in  full  confidence  to  the  one  whom  we  have  to 
thank  for  our  existence.  I  say  thank ;  for  life  seems  now 
to  be  of  value  to  me.  Formerly  it  was  not  so.  My  youth 
has  not  been  happy ;  on  the  contrary,  it  has  been  a  time 
of  suffering,  and  its  days,  to  a  great  extent  (this  is  indeed 
truth),  have  passed  away  in  a  continual  wish  to  die.  But 
now  it  is  otherwise.  As  a  compensation  for  that  long  time 
of  suffering  and  compulsory  inactivity,  another  has  suc- 
ceeded, which  gives  me  the  means  of  usefulness,  and  there- 
fore also  of  new  life  and  gladness.  We  hope,  we  desire, 
my  sisters  and  I,  nothing  else  than  to  be  able  to  do  some 
little  good,  whilst  we  are  wandering  here  on  earth,  and 
according  to  the  power  that  is  given  to  us,  to  work  for  the 
good  of  others,  and  live  ourselves  in  peace  and  harmony ; 
and  perhaps  our  joyless  youth,  if  it  has  deprived  us  of  some 
of  the  enjoyments  of  life,  may  in  some  measure  have  led 
our  minds  to  higher  aspirations,  and  to  a  stronger  desire 
for  real  usefulness. 

At  this  moment  my  plan  for  the  future  is  the  following : 
to  spend  as  little  as  possible  of  my  own  fortune  unon  my- 
self, so  that  I  may  be  able  as  much  as  possible  to  devote 
my  life  to  acquiring  all  the  means  that  may  be  of  service 
to  me  in  the  development  of  my  mission  as  an  authoress. 


166  LETTERS. 

Never  have  I  felt  so  much  that  I  have  been  created  for  this 
aim  as  now ;  never  have  I  felt  my  intellectual  being,  as  it 
were,  grow,  strengthen,  gain  stability  and  clearness,  as  now ; 
knowing  what  it  is  to  desire  to  live  and  learn,  and  never  to 

O 

have  had  the  joyful  hope  (to  speak  in  the  language  of  St. 
Paul)  "  to  be  a  vessel  formed  to  honor."  The  desire  and 
the  hope  that  I  become  to  you  and  to  my  sisters  a  subject 
of  rejoicing,  is  to  me  —  how  shall  I  express  it  ?  —  a  spur 
of  roses. 

Yes,  dearest  mother  !  what  I  have  often  felt,  what  I  have 
often  wanted  to  say  to  my  beloved  ones  at  home  is,  I  am 
happy.  Never  has  any  one  enjoyed  their  life  more  fully 
than  I  do  at  this  moment.  The  brightening  thoughts  with- 
in me,  which  promise  such  sweet  harmony  for  my  soul  in 
future,  contribute  much  to  this :  and  then  my  own  little 
quiet  room.  Oh !  dear  mother,  if.  I  should  be  at  home 
next  winter,  do  you  think  I  could  get  a  little  garret  in  Mr. 
Bruhn's  house  ?  It  is  more  important  for  me  than  any  one 
can  believe,  to  have  a  little  quiet  nest  of  my  own,  where  I 
can  be  quite  undisturbed.  In  the  suite  of  apartments  in 
our  house  this  would  be  impossible ;  but  in  the  garret  it 
would  be  delightful,  if  it  only  can  be  managed. 

TOMB,  30th  August,  1835. 

In  my  last  letter,  my  dear  mother,  I  told  you  such  a  mis- 
erable story,  that  I  feel  a  need  of  coming  to  you  with  some- 
thing more  cheerful,  and  of  such  subjects  there  is  no  lack. 
I  begin  with  what  touches  me  most.  I  must  therefore  tell 
you,  that  my  good  and  excellent  friend  has  returned  from 
Alingsas.  She  is  so  delighted  and  happy  to  be  here  again. 
I  cannot  imagine  how  such  a  warm-hearted  and  lively 
creature  could  have  resigned  herself  to  live  for  eight  years 
alone  at  this  solitary  Tomb  ;  but  no  one  can  excel  her  in 
the  power  of  quietly  fixing  a  purpose  and  then  pursuing  it. 
This  she  calls  her  "fool-hardiness."  I  count  myself  happy 
to  be  able  to  be  something  for  her ;  we  suit  each  other  ad- 


LETTERS.  167 

mirably.  The  solitary  life  which  she  leads  is  delightful  to 
me.  Here  in  this  quietude,  in  a  new  neighborhood,  sur- 
rounded by  new  objects,  there  awaken  within  me  many 
dormant  feelings,  many  interests  that  I  knew  nothing  of. 
I  am  going  through  a  spiritual  "  mineral-water  cure,"  which 
will  strengthen  me  in  body  and  mind ;  and  they  both 
needed  strengthening. 

Norway's  history,  ancient  and  modern,  its  literature,  na- 
ture, and  relationship  to  Sweden,  interests  me  greatly. 

I  inquire  into,  I  think  of,  many  things  which  never  be- 
fore gave  me  a  thought  or  an  interest.  Plans  for  new 
"  Sketches  "  are  in  progress  ;  thoughts  stream  forth,  and  I 
feel  that  both  the  time  and  the  place  are  important  for  my 
development.  The  spring  air  which  I  breathe,  being  con- 
tinually beside  the  Countess  S ,  and  the  influence  of 

her  heart,  her  character,  and  her  temper,  certainly  does  me 
good  ;  but  what  is  even  more  to  me  than  all  this,  is  that  I 
am  allowed  to  be  so  perfectly  in  peace.  You  cannot  think 
how  delightful  it  is,  my  dear  mother,  to  be  so  far  away  from 
all  acquaintances,  to  have  no  visits  to  pay  and  none  to  re- 
ceive. This  kind  of  unsociableness  is  a  real  disease,  but 
is  at  present  unconquerable.  My  nervous  system  has  been 
weakened.  I  trust  that  in  the  course  of  time,  living  in  re- 

'  O 

tirement,  and  with  prudent  care  of  my  health,  I  may  get 
stronger,  and  get  rid  of  that  most  painful  feeling  ;  but  until 
then,  it  is  so  good  for  me  not  to  have  that  feeling  tried. 
When  I  am  alone  in  my  quiet  room,  the  blue  sky  peeping 
in,  and  with  my  books  and  papers  around  me,  then  I  think 
the  whole  world  is  mine,  especially  if  a  dear  letter  lies  be- 
fore me,  bringing  good  news  from  those  who  belong  to  me, 
and  telling  me  that  they  love  me.  Then  my  heart  beats 
gratefully  to  the  Great  Father  of  all,  and  full  of  hope  to 
be  able  to  do  some  good  for  my  fellow-creatures  ;  then  I 
am  as  happy  as  any  one  can  be  ;  then  I  love  mankind  best 
and  live  best  for  them. 

On  Sunday  the  Countess  had  invited  a  small  party  to  an 


168  LETTERS. 

oyster-dinner.  After  dinner,  I  kept  the  young  people  at 
the  piano,  and  they  sang  Norwegian  songs  both  grand  and 
simple.  Between  whiles ,  who  is  said  to  be  a  book- 
worm, and  I,  who  am  the  same,  taught  each  other  a  num- 
ber of  pieces  out  of  Lord  Byron's  works,  whilst  I  in  secret 
admired  our  perseverance  in  keeping  up  a  mutual  instruc- 
tion of  which  we  both  knew  equally  much,  or  equally  little. 
After  this  lesson,  I  was  obliged  to  go  out,  overpowered  by 
my  migraine,  which  the  music  had  kept  back,  but  which 
the  conversation  about  Lord  Byron  had  brought  on  again. 
At  last  I  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed. 

Nearly  all  with  whom  I  have  come  in  contact  here  ap- 
pear to  me  to  have  the  universal  characteristic  of  kindness, 
cheerfulness,  and  enjoyment  of  life,  together  with  a  home- 
liness which  is  almost  too  naive ;  but  from  the  last  I  must 

except  the  Countess  W ,  who  in.  any  society  would  be 

distinguished  for  her  natural  wit  and  elegant  taste. 

Life  here  is  absorbed  in  domestic  occupations,  and  from 
people  with  cultivated  minds,  or  longing  after  cultivation, 
one  often  hears  painful  lamentations  that  they  stand  alone, 
have  no  one  to  speak  to,  and  that  the  duties  of  their  daily 
life  entirely  exhaust  and  kill  their  Aand  (soul).  In  general, 
I  think  the  Norwegian  mothers  of  families  are  to  be  pitied, 
for  they  must  be  housekeepers  to  a  degree  which  we  in 
Sweden  have  no  idea  of.  It  is  true,  they  read  here  with 
pleasure  all  the  modern  authors,  and  young  ladies  discuss 
Bulwer,  "tout  comme  chez  nous,"  and  we  have  even  in 
Moss  our  masquerades  with  Greek  and  Swiss  girls,  and 
great  hospitality,  and  kindness,  and  good-will  meets  one 
everywhere.  I  have  had  a  good  share  of  this,  which  I  hold 
in  grateful  memory ;  but  by  the  culture  among  the  country 
people,  I  have  been  very  little  edified.  I  saw  with  aston- 
ishment last  Sunday,  when  the  people  wended  their  way  to 
a  chapel  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  estate,  peasants  and 
small  farmers  in  dress-coats  and  fashionable  hats,  regular 
"dandies;"  their  wives  and  servant-maids  and  others  in 


LETTERS.  169 

bonnets  with  gauze  ribbons  of  various  colors,  with  shawls, 
caps,  gigot-sleeves,  and  curls,  quite  like  the  better  trades- 
men's wives  in  Stockholm.  I  went  into  the  church  and 
waited  to  see  if  the  service  accorded  with  their  progress  in 
fashion ;  but,  oh  dear !  oh  dear !  quite  the  reverse.  The 
music  was  absolutely  barbarous,  and  the  sermon  so  stupid 
and  dull  that  one  could  have  wept  over  it.  The  clergy- 
man, a  young  man  of  respectable  appearance,  was  smartly 
dressed,  and  looked  very  well  in  his  broad  frill  a  la  Henri 
Quatre,  which  belongs  to  the  priests'  canonicals  here.  The 
service  was  different  from  the  Swedish ;  but,  in  my  opinion, 
not  to  the  Norwegians'  advantage. 

I  am  glad  that  you  liked  the  easy-chair  which  I  bought 
out  of  the  profits  of  my  book.  "  Nina"  just  owed  her  kind 
patroness  this  proof  of  her  gratitude.  That  you,  my  dear 
mother,  from  the  beginning  have  liked  her  so  much,  has 
been  a  great  comfort  and  pleasure  to  me.  It  seems  now 
as  if  others  would  follow  your  example.  From  east  and 
west  I  have  flattering  notices  of  her  being  taken  into  favor 

o  o 

and  honor.  Yet  she  has  many  faults,  and  above  all  there 
is  one  which  I  would  give  much  to  be  able  to  take  away, 
and  that  is  in  reference  to  Edla.  "  The  Neighbors  "  also 
has  many  faults,  and  I  sincerely  acknowledge  them  and  all 
my  great  short-comings  and  imperfections  ;  but  still  I  have 
good  hopes  for  future  "  Sketches." 

TOMB,  Easter  Eve,  1837. 

What  shall  I  give  you,  dearest  Charlotte,  for  all  the  good 
and  pleasant  things  which  your  letter  contained.  My  life 
is  so  quiet  and  monotonous  outwardly,  that  the  description 
of  one  day  would  do  for  them  all.  Inwardly  it  is  certainly 
living  and  stirring  enough :  and  during  three  fourths  of  the 
day,  while  alone  in  my  room,  I  feel  how  foolish  it  would 
have  been  of  me  if  I  had  married,  because  I  see  with  pain 
how  short  and  insufficient  are  the  days  and  years  for  all 
that  I  wish  and  require  to  learn,  and  to  make  clear  to  my- 


170  LETTERS. 

self.  More  than  ever  do  I  work,  in  order  to  improve  and 
perfect  what  gifts  I  possess,  so  that  next  time  I  may  appear 
before  the  public  less  unfinished.  But  I  shall  yet  wait 
awhile.  It  does  me  an  immense  deal  of  good  to  be  alone, 
to  see  so  few  people,  to  live  undisturbed  for  my  calling. 
Besides,  I  have  a  kind  of  nervousness  which  makes  me 
unfit  for,  and  also  disagreeable  to  people.  This  is  at  times 
very  painful  to  me ;  but  I  feel  with  gratitude  that  it  brings 
with  it  some  more  positive  good.  I  will,  therefore,  devote 
myself  more  exclusively  to  my  calling.  Amongst  certain 
people  I  find  myself,  however,  more  at  ease,  and  to  them 
I  feel  a  kind  of  gratitude.  You,  my  dearest  Charlotte,  are 
one  of  them,  and  I  remember  this  with  delight  from  the 
town  where  I  was  with  you  last.  Beside  you  I  always  felt 
repose  and  comfort.  So  also  I  do  beside  my  splendid 
Lady  Stina.  Her's  is  a  bright,  energetic,  and  artless  nature, 
and  in  her  society  one  gets  refreshed  in  body  and  soul. 
And  then  she  is  so  good  and  amiable  !  I  love  her  most 
sincerely. 

You  have  heard  of  Hedda's  strange  complaint.  It  makes 
me  exceedingly  uneasy.  I  cannot  help  fearing  that  it  will 
prove  dangerous,  and  God  save  us  from  the  grief  that 
Hedda  should  — .  I  dare  not  write  it,  I  dare  not  think  it. 
I  do  not  know  what  then  would  become  of  us  all.  May 
God  protect  our  dear  Hedda  !  I  long  to  see  her  again,  and 
intend  going  home  this  summer  for  a  few  weeks.  I  shall 
then  return  to  this  place.  It  is  best  so  for  us  all. 

You  are  right,  dear  Charlotte  !  "  I  have  not  been  able 
to  make  Bruno  x  fall  deeply  enough  "  with  respect  to  deeds, 
for  only  then  true  love  could  reveal  its  power  and  sub- 
limity. Ah !  when  the  guilty  to  the  eyes  of  the  indiffer- 
ent spectator  disappears  in  the  depths  of  his  dark  abyss, 
when  he  has  forfeited  every  body's  sympathy  and  interest, 
and  when  the  pure  and  the  good  turn  away  from  him  with 
horror,  then  it  is  that  true  love  triumphantly  feels  its  power, 

1  In  The,  Neighbors. 


LETTERS.  171 

stoops  down  to  the  forsaken  one,  seizes  hold  of  him,  and 
does  not  rest  until  it  has  raised  him  out  of  the  slough.  I 
know  that  it  is  so,  and  that  this  picture  is  true.  But  it 
would  have  been  truer  and  better,  if  I  had  chosen  for  Bruno 
another  kind  of  criminality.  A  murder  would  have  been 
more  in  accordance  with  his  character ;  but  there  is  some- 
thing so  horrible  in  a  murder.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
participation  to  a  certain  degree  in  the  slave-trade  may  be 
imagined  without  the  participator  necessarily  being  a  hard- 
ened villain,  especially  when  his  active  share  in  such  a 
trade  is  soon  given  up,  which  his  confession  seems  to  im- 
ply. It  would,  therefore,  have  been  better  if  I  had  more 
clearly  defined  Bruno's  share  in  the  misdeed.  Some  per- 
sons have  reproached  me  for  having  made  Bruno  finally 
happy.  But  to  these  I  can  only  reply,  he  never  can  be 
happy,  Avhatever  he  may  appear  to  be  in  the  eyes  of  others 
(as  for  instance,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Rosenvik  people).  He 
says  so  himself  in  his  confession,  and  one  feels  that  he 
speaks  the  truth.  The  thunderbolt,  which  grazes  his  fore- 
head, lightens  also  in  his  soul,  and  shall  there  lighten  re- 
proachfully till  the  end  of  his  life.  Conscience  and  mem- 
ory are  his  tormentors.  But  he  has  stepped  into  the  courts 
of  atonement.  Celestial  melodies  will  occasionally  find  an 
echo  in  his  soul,  and  the  angel  who  has  gained  the  ascend- 
ency over  his  heart,  will  guide  him  to  the  goal. 

STOCKHOLM,  29th  September,  1837.1 

Dearest  sister  Cftarlotte  and ,  you  who  have  tended 

our  Hedda,  you  who  have  loved  her  so  much,  who  have 

i  While  my  husband  and  I  were  staying  at  a  watering-place  in  Ger- 
many, our  mother  communicated  to  us  her  wish  that  we  should  accompany 
my  sister  Hedda  to  Paris,  to  consult  the  physicians  there  about  her  ill- 
ness. We  hastened  accordingly  to  meet  her  and  my  youngest  sister, 
Agatha,  in  Hamburg.  Having  found  no  relief,  she  returned  after  a  short 
time  in  a  hopeless  state.  My  husband  and  I  were  obliged  to  take  a  pain- 
ful leave  of  her  in  Ystad,  and  she  died  a  few  days  after  her  arrival  ifc 
Stockholm. 


172  LETTERS. 

witnessed  her  sufferings  and  watched  her  incurable  disease, 
—  you  will  feel  resigned  and  thankful  to  God,  as  I  am, 
when  I  now  inform  you  that  she  has  found  peace  ;  that  God 
has  taken  her  away  from  us.  When  I  wrote  to  you  last 
Tuesday,  she  was  still  happy;  found  enjoyment  in  her 
home  and  in  the  society  of  her  family,  in  conversing  with 
them.  Towards  evening  the  same  day  her  pains  increased. 
The  remedies  which  were  given  to  her  to  alleviate  her  pain 
gave  her  no  relief.  The  same  was  the  case  the  following 
morning  ;  and  now  began,  oh,  merciful  God  !  such  horrible 
agonies.  The  doctor  arrived  about  noon.  The  medicine 
which  he  prescribed  gave  her  relief  for  a  time,  for  which 
we  thanked  God.  But  her  strength  began  suddenly  to 
give  way,  and  the  pains  began  again.  Hands  and  feet  be- 
came cold,  and  I  felt  that  her  Redeemer  was  approaching. 
She  suffered  a  great  deal  during  the  night.  In  the  early 
part  of  it,  Hedda,  although  continually  lying  in  bed,  was 
constantly  on  the  point  of  swooning.  At  last  she  fell 
asleep,  and  when  she  awoke  she  felt  a  heavenly  joy.  She 
said  repeatedly  how  happy  she  was,  how  free  from  pain  ; 
she  praised  God,  embraced  us  all ;  her  eyes  shone  with  a 
loving,  glorified  lustre,  and  her  frequent,  deep-drawn  sighs 
seemed  to  announce  her  approaching  dissolution.  It  came 
at  last ;  but  she  had  still  moments  of  great  suffering  ;  they 
passed  away,  and  she  fell  asleep  peacefully  and  quietly  like 
a  child.  She  died  at  a  quarter  past  ten  this  morning. 
Agatha  has  patiently  and  unceasingly  sat  like  a  comforting 
angel  beside  her  bed.  Poor,  dear  Agatha !  Nobody  loses 
in  the  departed  one  so  much  as  she  does.  Hedda  is  now 
lying  there  so  peacefully  and  quietly,  and  all  her  sufferings 

are  ended.     F ,  who  has  shared  with  us  the  anguish 

of  these  last  days,  like  a  son  and  a  brother  ;  K ,  and 

Frances,  and  several  more,  have  to-day  been  sitting  round 
her  bed,  wept  over  her,  and  said  how  good,  how  amiable 
she  was.  Yes,  during  these  days  she  has  been  like  an  angel 
in  human  shape.  What  she  said  was  so  full  of  love,  of 


LETTERS.  173 

purity,  of  patience,  and  so  void  of  all  selfishness  !  Her 
looks,  her  words,  her  tears,  her  submissiveness  and  her 
gratitude  to  God,  her  bitter  sufferings,  have  made  an  indel- 
ible impression  upon  me ;  and  her  cold,  clammy  hand, 
which  in  her  agony  so  often  stroked  my  forehead,  has  not 
rested  there  in  vain.  God  be  praised  !  I  say  it  from  my 
very  heart,  when  I  think  that  now  she  has  peace.  But 
now  comes  the  consciousness  of  the  heavy  loss,  and  then  — 
oh  !  it  seems  so  very  hard  that  she  should  have  suffered  sq 
much ;  and  bitter,  bitter  tears  must  I  weep  over  this.  And 
my  dear  Agatha :  how  will  it  be  for  her  ?  I  shall  endeavor 
to  be  to  her  and  to  our  mother  all  I  can ;  but  I  can  never 
be  the  same  to  them  as  Hedda.  Dear  sister  and  brother, 
you  have  done  much  for  Hedda ;  this  memory  must  be 
dear  to  you.  Farewell  for  this  time.  It  looks  dark  in 
more  ways  than  one.  Think  with  love  of  your 

FREDRIKA. 

STOCKHOLM,  4th  October,  1837. 

My  dearest  Charlotte !  Another  heavy  day  has  passed, 
and  every  thing  I  hope  will  now  become  better  and  more 
serene.  Agatha  even  feels  it  so.  She  bears  her  heavy 
loss  bravely ;  she  is  so  good,  so  strong,  both  in  mind  and 
in  body.  You  remember  that  our  Hedda  always  wished  to 
be  buried  in  Solna  church-yard.  We  have  chosen  a  place 
for  her  there.  But  she  could  not  be  taken  out  there  at 
once.  A  great  many  preparations  were  required,  and 
meanwhile  her  coffin  has  been  placed  in  a  vault  in  St. 
James'  Church.  This  was  done  the  day  before  yesterday, 
and  yet  a  day  so  mournful  made  the  most  soothing  impres- 
sion which  such  a  day  ever  can  make.  F had  set 

apart  a  room  in  our  suite  of  apartments,  and,  with  white 
cloth,  had  arranged  a  kind  of  funeral  chapel  there.  The 
door  opened  to  the  dining-room,  where  the  funeral  guests 
were  assembled.  In  this  inner  room,  Hedda's  last  bed 
stood.  There  she  was  lying  beautifully  shrouded,  like  one 


174  LETTERS. 

sleeping,  so  peaceful,  so  saint-like  her  whole  appearance. 
She  had  scarcely  changed  at  all,  and  the  light  of  the  lamp, 
which  hung  down  from  the  top  of  the  little  vault,  prevented 
our  seeing  the  first  traces  of  decay,  which  were  noticeable 
by  daylight.  In  her  hand  she  held  her  crown  of  myrtles ; 
bouquets  of  myrtles  and  heart's-ease  were  laid  in  the  coffin 
round  her  feet.  The  castrum  doloris  was  richly  decorated 
with  beautiful  flowers,  and  the  floor  strewn  with  myrtle  and 
many  flowers.  It  was  a  beautiful  death-bed.  It  was  like 
Hedda's  memory.  All  said  that  they  had  never  seen  death 
in  a  more  pleasing  form.  Tears  of  sincere  regret  were 
wept  over  her.  Brinckman,  strange  to  say,  wept  most  bit- 
terly. On  the  plate  at  her  feet  was  written,  "  Blessed 
are  the  peaceful,  for  they  shall  be  called  the  children 
of  God  ; "  and  on  the  plate  at  her  head,  "  Heclda  Bremer, 
her  mother's  and  sisters'  darling.  Born ;  died ." 

After  the  funeral,  to  which  only  the  most  intimate  ac- 
quaintances and  our  relations  were  invited,  F and  the 

K s  remained  with  us  all  the  evening,  and  it  was  not  a 

sad  evening.  She  was  free  from  pain,  liberated,  and  saved 
in  the  bosom  of  her  Heavenly  Father !  Oh,  what  a  com- 
fort it  was  to  know  this  !  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  com- 
fort I  especially  feel  at  this  deliverance  !  Her  suffering  was 
to  me  a  chalice  full  of  bitterness.  I  dreaded  it,  I  revolted 
against  it.  Her  death  was  to  me,  as  well  as  to  her,  an 
opiate.  Our  mother's  grief  is  deep,  but  she  is  so  resigned 
and  tolerably  composed.  To-morrow  we  leave  for  the  coun- 
try, but  return  to  town  next  week,  to  accompany  Hedda  to 
her  last  resting-place.  I  trust  that  Agatha's  health  and  the 
tender  love  of  her  friends  will  enable  her  to  keep  up  her 
courage. 

F—  —  has  been  all  to  us  during  the  whole  of  this  time. 
Tenderly  as  a  brother  he  has  wept  for  Hedda,  at  whose 
death-bed  he  was  present ;  and  ever  since  he  has  been  like 
a  son  to  our  mother,  like  a  brother  to  us.  May  you  and 
your  husband  reap  much  benefit  from  a  journey,  one  half 


LETTERS.  175 

of  which  has  been  so  full  of  uneasiness,  but  which,  through 
you  and  Agatha,  became  so  beneficial  to  Hedda.  I  have 
done  the  least  of  us  all  for  her ;  but  I  have  loved  her  truly, 
and  the  influence  she  has  had  upon  me  shall  never  be  for- 
gotten. 

STOCKHOLM,  21st  December,  1837. 

Now,  my  dear  Charlotte  !  I  will  sit  down  and  write  a  tol- 
erably long  letter  to  you,  and  at  the  same  time  thank  you 
sincerely  for  yours.  Thank  God,  that  you  and  your  hus- 
band are  in  good  health,  and  have  good  courage  to  en- 
counter all  the  evening  parties  which  you  will  have  to  go 
through  !  I  should  be  terrified  if  I  were  you.  But  I  would 
gladly  taste  your  delicious  suppers.  I  declared  myself  de- 
cidedly in  favor  of  "  Zampa  ; "  our  mother  was  in  favor  of 
the  roasted  blackcocks ;  and  Agatha,  the  little  greedy  onfe, 
declared  her  desire  to  have  a  taste  of  every  thing. 

I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Geijer  several  times 
of  late.  It  is  indeed  a  great  pleasure  to  me,  and  I  must 
tell  you  all  about  a  little  fete  which  we  had  arranged  for 
him  last  week.  I  had  written  a  little  play,  which  was  to  be 
acted  by  Frances,  Agatha,  and  myself.  I  had  procured  some 
beautiful  flowers ;  a  few  friends  were  invited  to  tea,  and 
amongst  them  "le  heros  de  la  fete,"  Geijer,  who  came  kind 
and  cheerful,  very  different  from  what  he  is  said  to  be  gen- 
erally in  society.  When  the  company  had  assembled,  and 
we  had  conversed  a  little  while,  the  folding-doors  to  the 
dining-room  were  thrown  open,  and  there  the  little  scene 
was  acted,  of  which  I  am  now  going  to  give  you  a  sketch. 
A  good,  but  somewhat  old-fashioned  aunt  finds  her  nieces 
reading,  the  one  Geijer's  "  History  of  the  Swedes,"  the 
other,  his  "  Poems."  She  gives  them  a  scolding  for  it ; 
condemns  ladies'  reading  history  and  poetry ;  abuses  Geijer, 
and  so  on.  The  nieces  defend  him  and  his  writings ;  show 
the  influence  of  both  upon  the  mind  and  upon  life  ;  many 
witty  and  many  grave  things  are  said ;  and  ultimately  the 
aunt  allows  herself  to  be  convinced,  gives  her  nieces  per- 


176  LETTERS. 

mission  to  read  all  that  Geijer  has  written,  and  promises  to 
invite  him,  in  order  to  have  a  chat  with  him  over  a  cup  of 
tea.  She  goes  away,  and  the  nieces  continue  their  conver- 
sation for  a  while  ;  get  into  ecstasies  at  Geijer's  words 
about  the  aim  of  education,  which  words  I  recite  ;  they 
wish  to  thank  him  for  so  much  good  ;  get  suddenly  the 
sublime  idea  of  presenting  him  with  the  wreath  which  they 
had  bound  in  the  morning,  and  I  exclaim,  "  Let  us  imag- 
ine that  he  is  now  sitting  here  before  us."  We  go  to  him 
with  the  wreath,  and  say  to  him  (here  we  went  up  to  him, 
and  I  recited  the  following  verses)  :  — 

Oh,  dear  to  every  Swedish  heart, 

Thou  who  didst  thy  "Memorials"  write 

In  every  spirit  pure  and  bright; 
What  wisdom  do  thy  lips  impart! 
Laurels  thou  hast  for  all  true  worth, 

For  every  pain  sweet  melody, 

For  dissonances,  harmony 
From  some  far  brighter  home  than  earth. 

On  Swedish  annals  thou  hast  thrown 
Fresh  lustre;  fame  on  thee  she  showers; 
Thou  deck'st  her  homes  with  fairest  flowers, 

Accept  from  us  this  floral  crown. 

When  History  on  her  varied  pages 

Has  graven  deep  thy  honored  name, 

When  centuries  have  borne  its  fame 
To  the  dim  shores  of  future  ages, 
E'en  then  thy  strains  melodious  sung 

In  peaceful  homes,  shall  charm  the  ear, 

Thy  songs  call  forth  full  many  a  tear, 
Thy  name  be  blest  by  manj-  a  tongue. 

"With  a  trembling  voice  I  repeated  the  last  lines.  I  was 
moved,  and  so  was  Geijer ;  so  were  we,  in  fact,  all  of  us. 
When  I  had  finished,  he  put  his  hands  upon  my  head  and 
kissed  my  forehead ;  so  he  did  also  with  Agatha.  How 
amiable  and  how  full  of  life  he  was  afterwards !  He  played 
some  exquisitely  beautiful  capricios  on  the  piano,  with  so 
much  fire,  with  so  much  genius,  and  then  accompanied 


LETTERS.  177 

Frances  to  some  of  his  own  charming  songs.  Frances  and 
her  brother  sang  some  of  their  beautiful  Irish  melodies. 
At  supper,  anecdotes  were  told,  and  loud  and  merry  rang 
the  laughter.  All  were  happy  and  pleased  except  myself. 
I  do  not  know  what  sadness  had  come  over  me  this  even- 
ing ;  and  although  every  body  was  kind  and  pleasant,  and  I 
had  succeeded  so  well,  yet  I  could  not  warm  either  my 
cheek  or  my  heart.  Frances  had  been  very  nervous  about 

her  part  in  the  scene,  and  K was  in  great  fear  about 

his  wife.  When  the  little  play  was  over,  he  was  therefore 
radiant  with  joy.  And  Frances  had  really  acted  her  part 
wonderfully  well.  She  preached  and  moralized  in  such  a 
serious  and  anxious  tone  of  voice,  that  one  could  scarcely 
believe  that  it  was  mere  acting.  Geijer  came  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday  to  say  good-by.  There  is  such  a  grand 
and  vigorous  heartiness  in  this  man  !  I  really  love  him. 
Yesterday  I  heard  him  speak  in  the  Swedish  Academy, 
where  he  presided  as  president,  and  where  he  addressed 
Baron  Berzelius,  who  appeared  there  for  the  first  time  after 
his  election  as  a  member  of  the  academy.  His  address  to 
Berzelius  created  a  general  feeling  of  delight.  Unfortu- 
nately I  sat  too  far  away  to  be  able  to  follow  him  properly, 
especially  as  he  occasionally  lowered  his  voice.  Some  of 
his  expressions  I  shall  try  to  quote,  such  as  I  understood 
them.  He  spoke  of  the  influence  which  Sweden  has  exer- 
cised upon  the  rest  of  the  world,  not  only  by  warlike,  but 
also  by  peaceful  deeds.  "  The  names  of  the  Swedish  kings," 
said  he,  "  had  gone  far  ;  Linnets  had  gone  farther."  Turn- 
ing to  Berzelius,  he  said,  "  The  whole  intellectual  world 
considers  your  name  coupled  with  Sweden's  glory."  When 
Geijer  had  finished  speaking,  Berzelius  held  his  inaugura- 
tion speech,  which  was  intended  to  be  a  eulogy  on  the 
late  Archbishop.  This  subject  was  rather  a  dry  one,  and 
the  speaker's  eloquence  not  very  great.  Berzelius  did  like 
a  sensible  man  ;  he  cut  the  matter  as  short  as  possible.  I 
did  not  hear  well,  because  he  has  rather  a  weak  voice.  All 
12 


178  LETTERS. 

I  can  remember  was  his  saying  that  "  the  study  of  Nature 
does  not  constitute  so  great  a  part  of  the  education  of  youth 
as  it  ought  to  do,"  and  on  this  occasion  he  gave  a  cut  at 
Upsala  University.  Berzelius'  entrance  in  the  hall  created 
a  universal  sensation  of  delight.  Finally  a  young  clergy- 
man was  honored  with  a  prize  for  a  poem  on  Luther  and 
his  friend  Alexis,  which  our  new  Archbishop  (Wallin)  re- 
cited with  his  fine,  melodious  voice.  It  was  beautiful ;  but, 
according  to  my  taste,  the  plain  recital  of  true  events  has 
far  more  savor  and  poetry  in  it,  than  verses  written  on 
the  subject.  Exaggeration  spoils  truth ;  and  where  truth 
wanes,  beauty  also  wanes.  The  Queen  and  the  Crown- 
Prince  and  Crown-Princess  were  present ;  the  hall  was 
crowded.  The  greatest  enjoyment  I  had  was  from  Gei- 
jer, —  from  his  dignified  manner  and  his  powerful  lan- 
guage. My  soul  has  this  autumn  been  like  a  gloomy  day. 
Geijer  has  passed  across  it  like  a  ray  of  the  sun  ;  for  many 
years,  nobody  has  made  such  an  impression  upon  me  as  he 
has  done.  I  am  happy  to  know  that  I  shall  see  him  again 
in  March. 

TOMB,  2d  March,  1839. 

My  dear  Charlotte !  Your  description  of  the  state  of 
the  young  girl  has  touched  my  heart ;  for  her  own  sake, 
and  for  the  sake  of  those  who  speak  for  her,  I  shall  with 
the  greatest  pleasure  do  what  I  can.  See  here  what  I  am 
thinking  of:  My  book,  "  The  Home,"  is  still  in  hand,  and 
not  even  ready  to  be  written  clean,  and  notwithstanding  I 
have  already  borrowed  three  hundred  rix  dollars  on  ac- 
count of  the  expected  profit  on  the  same,  in  order  to  con- 
tribute to  save  a  respectable  man,  father  of  a  family.  Until 
autumn  the  book  cannot  possibly  be  ready  for  the  press, 
and  until  then  I  have  no  means  at  my  disposal.  But  I 
think  I  can  already  now,  without  hesitation,  promise  you 
three  hundred  rix  dollars  about  that  time,  for  the  cure  of 
the  poor  girl,  if  required.  Most  willingly  will  they  be 
given.  May  it  please  God  that  some  cure  might  be  found 


LETTERS.  179 

for  the  poor  sufferer.  Thanks,  dearest  Charlotte,  for  hav- 
ing applied  to  me  in  this  matter.  May  your  kind  exer- 
tions on  her  behalf  be  crowned  with  success ! 

We  are  all  very  happy  to  hear  that  your  husband  is  now 
so  well  again.  It  is  so  pleasant  to  be  able  to  number  you 
amongst  the  happy  couples  in  this  world.  I  number  my- 
self amongst  the  happy  odd  ones ;  I  am  satisfied  with,  and 
grateful  for,  my  position,  my  solitariness,  which  gives  me 
peace  in  my  dear  occupations,  and  for  a  friend  so  good,  so 
amiable,  so  gifted  in  point  of  heart  and  head,  and  perfectly 
harmonizing  with  me.  I  am  proceeding  slowly  with  my 
book.  My  anxious  desire  for  completeness  and  perfection 
induces  me  to  do  so.  How  much  kindness  have  I  not  met 
with  on  my  path  as  an  authoress  !  The  only  way  of  prov- 
ing my  gratitude  is  to  produce  a  better  work.  We  shall 
see  how  I  succeed.  Do  you  know,  dearest  Charlotte,  any 
elderly  ladies,  not  married,  kind  and  happy  ?  If  so,  would 
you  tell  me  something  of  them,  and  of  what  affords  them 
the  greatest  pleasure  in  this  world.  I  have  to  provide  a 
few  such  characters  in  my  book ;  and  it  is  good  to  seize 
upon  some  touches  of  nature  here  and  there.  If  my  book 
should  be  launched  in  autumn,  I  intend  to  let  some  minor 
works  succeed  it  in  the  course  of  winter. 

ARSTA,  15th  June,  1841. 

Now,  my  dear  Charlotte,  I  intended  executing  what  I 
have  so  long  contemplated,  namely,  the  great  achievement 
of  writing  a  long  letter  to  you,  in  which  I  shall  make 
friends  and  acquaintances  appear  higgledy-piggledy  ;  but 
the  fact  is,  ever  since  yesterday  morning,  a  terrible  woman 
has  been  sitting  here,  who  incessantly  repeats :  "  Goethe 
says,"  "  Byron  says,"  "  Borne  says,"  "  Schiller  says,"  etc., 
etc.,  etc.  And  then  follow  such  trite  and  commonplace 
sayings,  that  every  good  sort  of  man  or  woman,  with  a 
little  common  sense,  could  say  just  the  same  things.  And 
then  she  comes  down  upon  one  with  quotations  from 


180  LETTERS. 

"  Euphrosine,"  Grafstrom,  Bottiger,  and  other  poets.  All 
this  has  fatigued  me  very  much.  In  order  to  refresh  my- 
self a  little,  I  sit  down  to  write  to  you,  and  shall  begin 
with  thanking  you  very  much  for  your  letter  of  the  4th  of 
June.  Ever  since  Whitsuntide,  I  have  led  a  very  active 
and  stirring  life  amongst  a  great  many  people,  whom  I 
shall  here  introduce  to  you.  First,  then,  comes, the  Bar- 
oness Knorring,  nee  Zelow,  who  spent  the  Whitsun  holi- 
days here.  She  is  an  exceedingly  animated  and  very  witty 
lady  ;  but  she  is  also,  what  is  better  than  this,  more  cordial 
and  amiable  than  the  majority  of  people,  although  this  is 
not  observed  until  after  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with 

.  her.  She  resembles  in  this  respect  her  own  face,  in  which 
there  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  any  thing  very  agreeable, 
when  the  expression  is  listless,  but  in  which  the  prettiest 
looks,  full  of  life  and  grace,  are,  as  it  were,  budding  out, 
when,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  she  becomes  animated 
with  speaking  or  relating ;  and  this  latter  is  her  most 
brilliant  part.  The  days  which  she  spent  here  with  her 
daughter  made  in  many  respects  a  mutually  bright  and 
cheerful  impression.  The  weather  and  Nature  were  won- 
derfully charming,  so  that  one  felt  inclined  to  accept  the 

/old  popular  belief  that  God's  angels,  at  this  time  of  the 
season,  soar  up  and  down  between  heaven  and  earth,  in- 
order  to  impart  to  the  latter  some  of  the  glories  of  the 
former. 

On  the  Monday  after  Whitsun  week,  our  mother  and  I 
went  to  town.  There  I  again  spent  much  of  my  time 
with  the  Baroness  Knorring,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
introducing  to  her  several  literary  notabilities,  such  as 
Franzen,  Geijer,  Brinckman,  Grafstrom,  which  was  very 
pleasant,  and  afforded  her  great  delight.  Brinckman  be- 
came very  animated  on  account  of  this  new  acquaintance. 
He  invited  us  to  tea,  together  with  several  others  ;  and  he 
will  certainly  not  fail  to  hover  round  the  witty  Baroness 
during  her  mineral-water  drinking  in  Stockholm.  Brinck- 


LETTERS.  181 

man  and  I  have,  after  a  three  years'  silence,  commenced 
some  fire-works  together.  But  they  turn  out  only  ashes  in 
the  end.  Not  so  my  intercourse  with  Geijer.  You,  who 
have  seen  him  only  a  short  time,  cannot  imagine  what  a 
wealth  of  goodness,  of  fresh,  bracing,  noble  life  there  is  in 
this  man.  His  influence  is  in  the  highest  degree  invigor- 
ating and  ennobling;  I  do  not  know  sometimes  in  what 
way.  His  mere  presence  brings  this  with  it.  Like  the 
billows  of  the  ocean,  he  is  tossed,  or  seems  to  be  tossed, 
about  by  impulses  ;  but  they  are  directed  by  a  wind  from 
heaven,  so  pure,  so  fresh.  I  am  very  fond  of  him,  and  will 
therefore  not  say  any  thing  more  of  him,  because  I  cannot 
speak  of  him  highly  enough  to  please  myself.  But,  thank 
God,  that  I  have  made  Geijer's  acquaintance  !  The  Baron- 
ess Knorring  was  very  much  charmed  with  him ;  he  less 
with  her,  although  he  was  exceedingly  friendly,  and  did  not 
do  what  Brinckman  and  Franzen  could  not  leave  off  doing, 
' — tease  her  about  her  supposed  authorship.  Franzen  has 
got  very  old,  and  it  seems  as  if  he  could  not  long  tarry 
here  on  earth.  But  he  decays  in  a  noble  way,  like  the 
temples  of  antiquity ;  he  looks  well  in  his  pallor,  with  the 
poetical  expression  of  his  face,  and  with  his  gentle,  patri- 
archal manner.  To  me  he  is  exceedingly  kind.  But, 
now  to  lesser  notabilities  in  the  world  of  mankind,  who, 
nevertheless,  in  God's  world  may  stand  equally  high  as 
the  more  prominent  ones.  Who  ought  not  then  to  stand 
here  on  the  top  of  the  ladder,  but  thou,  honest,  good 

II ,  so  firm  in  friendship,  so  faithful  in  the  fulfilment 

of  all  good  deeds  and  of  your  duty ;  although  a  little  in- 
tolerable when  you  repeat  the  same  thing  over  and  over, 
making  the  same  indifferent  remarks,  till  from  very  weari- 
ness one  ceases  to  argue  a  point  on  which  it  is  impossible 
to  coincide  with  you ;  but  a  little  harmless  tediousness  is 
permitted  to  nag  as  much  as  it  pleases  :  the  heart  is  never- 
theless in  the  right  place,  and  so  is  the  head.  R is  in 

good  health  this  year,  and  in  good   humor;    he  carries 


182  LETTERS. 

always  about  with  him  in  his  pocket  Franzen's  lines  on 
"Strife  and  Peace,"  and  a  German  criticism  on  the 
"  Sketches,"  and  reads  them  out  aloud  wherever  he  finds 
an  opportunity.  I  am  afraid,  however,  that  it  is  not  always 
a  propos  ;  but  I  am  grateful  for  his  kindness,  and  for  the 
lively  interest  which  he  takes  in  them. 

It  is  said  to  be  decided  now  that  Jenny  Lind  is  to  go  to 
France  in  July.  Her  singing  and  acting  in  "  Norma  "  has 
raised  her  reputation  still  more.  I  attended,  in  company 

with  L ,  the  first  representation  of  "  Norma,"  and  we 

were  very  much  delighted  with  Miss  Lind.  Her  acting 
was  so  pure,  so  artistical  throughout,  with  the  exception  of 
two  or  three  movements,  which  I  think  might  have  been 
more  impressive  if  they  had  been  properly  interpreted. 
L informed  me  that  this  was  Jenny  Lind's  first  re- 
hearsal of  "  Norma,"  as  far  as  regarded  the  acting.  She 
can  never  act  during  the  usual  rehearsal,  but  leaves  this 
until  the  moment  when  she  appears  before  the  public, 
when  she  often  gets  the  most  beautiful  sudden  inspirations. 

L was  really  a  little  anxious  on  her  account,  because 

she  felt  an  aversion  for  this  character,  and  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  it.  He  was,  therefore,  the  more  delighted 
with  her  beautiful,  powerful  acting. 

AESTA,  llth  February,  1842. 

After  about  a  month's  stay  in  town,  I  have  now  been 
allowed  to  return  to  my  dear  peaceful  country.  Amongst 
remarkable  things  which  happened  during  my  stay  in 
town,  I  can  tell  you  about  a  conflagration,  which  fortu- 
nately was  extinguished  after  having  consumed  the  roof 
and  the  garret  of  the  house.  I  was  that  evening  visiting 
some  friends,  not  far  from  where  the  fire  was.  It  was  a 
splendid  sight.  The  inhabitants  of  the  house  on  fire  took 
it  very  coolly.  Relying  on  the  solid  fire-proof  flooring  of 
the  attic,  a  gentleman  was  quietly  sitting  in  a  room  next 
below  the  burning  roof,  reading,  with  two  burning  candles 


LETTERS.  183 

beside  him,  and  holding  a  pitcher  of  water  in  his  hand, 
having  got  a  promise  from  the  chief  of  the  fire-brigade  to 
let  him  know  in  case  the  fire  should  choose  to  come  down 
to  him.  But  the  fire  did  not  come  down  to  him ;  and  the 
gentleman  was  left  in  peace  with  his  book,  his  candles,  and 
his  pitcher  of  water. 

STOCKHOLM,  12th  October,  1846. 

From  your  letter  to  Agatha,  my  dear  Charlotte,  I  see 
that  you  want  some  detailed  accounts  of  the  last  illness 

and   death   of  the    Countess   S ;   and  being  now  at 

home,  after  my  melancholy  watching  at  her  bedside,  I  will 
give  you  all  the  information  which  you  have  asked  for.  I 
had  intended  to  write  to  you  under  all  circumstances  about 
her,  as  you  liked  each  other,  and  as  her  welfare  or  her  sor- 
rows could  not  be  indifferent  to  you.  You  know  already 
that  her  mineral-water  cure  was  succeeded  by  a  wonderful 
change  for  the  better.  Both  herself  and  I,  who  immedi- 
ately on  my  arrival  in  her  house  had  almost  daily  both 
thought  and  spoken  of  death,  and  had  prepared  every 
thing  to  receive  this  guest,  —  a  guest  always  expected 
with  solemn  feelings,  although  without  fear,  —  began  now, 
with  real  surprise,  to  believe  that  he  would  not  arrive,  but 
that  instead  life  and  health  would  be  restored.  She  said 
several  times,  "  I  begin  now  myself  to  think  that  I  shall 
continue  to  live ; "  and  she  was  happy  in  this  thought,  be- 
cause her  mind  was  lively  and  strong,  and  took  a  warm 
interest  in  every  thing,  —  the  same  as  in  her  healthy  days. 
This  was  still  the  case  when  her  relations  arrived  at  Tomb. 
The  meeting  with  them  was  like  a  joyful  festival.  Lady 
Stina  had  been  very  active  in  all  the  preparations  for  their 
reception,  and  she  felt  herself  very  happy.  This  lasted 
three  days.  On  the  fourth  day  there  was  an  end  to  it. 
After  dinner  she  got  a  violent  attack  of  illness,  and  pains 
soon  began,  which  brought  on  violent  delirium ;  and  I  was 
nearly  in  despair.  Her  last  moments  were,  however,  free 


184  LETTERS. 

from  pain,  and  she  fell  asleep.  During  this  last  illness, 
we  often  read  psalms  to  her,  and  her  dearest  thoughts 
were  her  reunion  with  the  beloved  ones  who  had  gone  be- 
fore. Love  and  hope  never  left  her  heart  Thank  God, 
that  I  was  permitted  to  come  and  be  near  her  during  this 
time.  I  would  not  barter  the  bitterness  thereof  for  much 
that  is  sweet  and  delightful.  Above  her  grave  heaven's 
vault  expands  itself,  full  of  bright  promises  of  glittering 
lights.  The  day  of  her  funeral  was  very  fine,  and  all  went 
off  beautifully  and  well.  She  would  have  been  pleased 
with  it  herself.  I  left  Tomb  a  few  days  after  the  funeral, 
and  on  my  arrival  at  Arsta  I  had  the  pleasure  of  finding 
our  mother  and  Agatha  well  and  in  good  spirits,  and  our 
home  peaceful  and  happy  as  usual. 

TOMB,  26th  November,  1835. 

Dearest  Frances  !  The  thanks  which  so  long  have  been 
on  my  lips  for  your  friendly  lines,  must  at  last  leave  them 
and  take  wing.  Let  them  also  tell  you,  that  it  makes  me 
so  very  happy  that  you  think  of  me,  and  that  you  find 
pleasure  in  my  epistles. 

Many,  many  times  have  I  intended  writing  to  you,  and 
to  speak  with  you  about  the  real  and  the  ideal,  about  re- 
ligion, about  morals,  etc.,  etc.  I  wished  to  tell  you  my 
views  on  these  subjects,  in  exchange  for  yours  ;  but  of  these 
I  have  always  remembered  something  since  last  winter. 
Do  you  remember  how  we  then  read  together  some  pas- 
sages out  of  Miss  Martineau's  pleasant  little  novel,  "  Briery 
Creek  ?  "  do  you  remember  when  —  strangely  enough  for 
such  an  intelligent  person  —  she  expresses  the  idea  that 
knowledge  is  the  highest  aim  of  man  and  of  civilization, 
and  that  virtue  is  to  be  considered  only  as  a  means  to  that 
end ;  how  we  both  were  unanimous  in  saying,  "  No !  vir- 
tue is  the  aim ;  knowledge  only  the  means  of  attaining 
that  aim  ?  "  But  if  we  agree  in  this  point,  I  have  been 
thinking,  —  What  in  the  world  do  we  then  dispute  about  ? 


LETTERS.  185 

And  it  appears  to  me  that  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  wage 
any  war  with  each  other,  when  we  agree  on  the  main 
point.  For  I  know  that  we  hold  the  same  opinions,  not 
only  about  the  intrinsic  worth  of  virtue,  but  also  with  re- 
spect to  its  eternal  origin,  the  source  from  whence  the 
veins  of  truth  and  strength  well  forth.  We  agree  that 
virtue  is  the  highest,  and  that  we  ought  to  practice  it,  each 
in  her  own  path  in  life.  Your  life  seems  to  be  like  an 
endless  kiss,  a  tender  embrace,  in  which  you  give  your  own 
self  for  the  good  of  beloved  beings  ;  my  life  does  perhaps 
span  a  more  extensive  sphere,  but  it  is  also  less  warm,  less 
tender,  percHance  less  good.  Indeed,  yours  appears  to  me 
to  be  more  beautiful ;  and  I  think  often  of  Byron's  words :  — 

"Many  are  poets  who  have  never  penn'd 
Their  inspiration,  and  perchance  the  best: 
They  felt,  they  loved,  and  died,  but  would  not  lend 
Their  thoughts  to  meaner  beings ;   they  compress'd 
The  god  within  them,  and  rejoin'd  the  stars 
Unluurel'd  upon  earth,  but  far  more  blest 
Than  those  who  are  degraded  by  their  jars 
Of  passions,  and  their  frailties  link'd  to  fame,"  etc.,  etc. 

Many  times,  when  thus  I  have  thought  and  felt,  have  I 
been  tempted  to  abandon  a  path  on  which  selfishness,  am- 
bition, and  many  weaknesses  so  easily  steal  into  the  heart, 
and  to  choose  instead  a  new  one,  which  would  lead  to  a 
purification  of  the  soul,  and  would  fill  the  heart  with  love 
and  patience.  But  an  irresistible  voice  has  lured  me  on- 
ward, has  put  pen  and  paper  in  my  hand,  and  has  whis- 
pered to  me,  "  Proceed  !  "  I  have  determined  to  go  on- 
ward ;  but  I  have  invited  Earnestness  and  Love  to  be  my 
travelling  companions,  to  guide,  to  support,  and  to  enlighten 
me.  To  you  will  I  also  confess  that  the  life  which  now 
lies  before  me  gives  me  pleasure  ;  that  the  perfect  freedom 
which  I  enjoy  to  devote  myself  to  my  beloved  occupations, 
is  to  me  like  fresh,  pure  air,  in  which  one  joyously  breathes 
and  lives.  I  believe  that  my  real  working-time  shall  now 
begin.  Much  have  I  yet  to  learn,  and  great  is  my  thirst 


186  LETTERS. 

for  knowledge.  Man  is  the  subject  of  which,  before  all 
others,  I  shall  treat.  It  is  therefore  man  whom  I  must 
study  more  closely.  And  I  hope  that  Philosophy  and  His- 
tory will  lend  me  the  key  :  Philosophy,  by  explaining  to  me 
more  in  general  his  powers,  his  elements,  his  affinity  with 
heaven  and  with  nature  ;  and  History,  by  showing  me  the 
concrete  man  in  his  doings,  in  all  his  various  stages  of  civ- 
ilization, in  different  climates,  in  all  the  changing  scenes 
of  life.  By  these  means  alone  I  hope  that  I  shall  be  able 
to  judge  rightly  of  man,  such  as  he  is  at  present,  with  refer- 
ence both  to  the  general  tendency  of  the  age,  and  to  his 
own  individuality.  Man  and  the  State  are  surely  not  chil- 
dren born  to-day.  Neither  have  they  been  created  out  of 
nothing.  Their  inner  organism  has  its  root  far  back  in 
antiquity;  their  life  derives  its  origin  from  a  life  which  is 
beyond  all  time  and  beyond  all  change.  It  is  only  by  con- 
templating them  in  their  connection  with  an  historical  past 
and  a  spiritual  eternity,  that  one  can  rightly  understand 
them ;  that  is  to  say,  understand  their  heart,  their  inmost, 
intrinsic,  real  life,  and  that,  as  a  moralist,  one  can  hope  to 
effect  any  good  for  them.  I  should  wish  to  tell  you  much 
about  all  this,  if  I  could  come  to  you,  or  could  transport 
you  hither,  and  place  you  on  my  sofa  beside  me  ;  we  would 
then,  if  you  did  not  get  tired  of  me,  have  a  long,  long  chat 
about  all  this.  A  chat  by  correspondence  about  these 
subjects  is  for  me  too  heavy  and  too  tedious  ;  therefore, 
now  to  something  else. 

You  have  been  in  Norway,  my  dear  Frances.  You  have 
crossed  the  Swine  Sound.  You  have  there  seen  how  the 
hills,  after  having  long  followed  you  on  the  Swedish  side  in 
bleak  and  barren  undulations,  suddenly  rise  on  the  borders 
into  mountains,  both  on  the  Swedish  and  on  the  Norwegian 
frontier,  their  tops  crowned  with  "  evergreen,"  which  they 
wave,  as  it  were,  in  mutual  salutations,  until  at  last  they 
sink  quietly  their  brows  into  the  sound,  whose  waters  part, 
and  at  the  same  time  unite,  the  two  countries.  When  I 


LETTERS.  187 

walked  up  the  mountain  on  the  Norwegian  side,  I  read  on 
some  red  and  white  painted  sign-posts  on  the  road-side  the 
word  Sorgenfri  (free  from  cares).  I  took  this  word  grate- 
fully as  an  omen,  and  did  not  allow  some  cackling  geese, 
which  met  me  with  hostile  intentions,  to  disturb  my  con- 
templations. And  this  word  has  hitherto  proved  itself  a 
true  prophet ;  for  not  only  has  my  own  life  been  as  free 
from  cares  and  as  pleasant  as  one  could  wish  to  have  it 
here  on  earth,  but  I  fancy  also  that  the  life  of  the  inhabit- 
ants here  is  more  free  from  cares  and  more  fresh  than  in 
Sweden.  I  have  not  seen  much  of  it  myself;  but  I  have 

heard  a  great  deal,  partly  through  the  Countess  S , 

whose  delicate  tact  rarely  leads  her  into  any  mistakes,  and 
partly  from  the  inhabitants  themselves.  See  here  what, 
amongst  other  things,  I  have  noticed :  greater  simplicity 
than  in  Sweden,  more  naturalness  in  the  social  order  of 
things  and  in  social  life.  Education  is  more  generally  dif- 
fused, and  consequently  there  exists  scarcely  any  difference 
of  rank.  Huusjomfruen  (the  housekeeper)  prepares  the 
dinner  and  other  meals,  and  then  goes  with  la  Comtesse 
to  pay  visits  and  to  balls.  She  says  "  thou  "  to  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  house,  and  nothing  happens  in  the  family  with 
which  she  is  not  as  well  acquainted  as  every  member  of 
the  household,  and  her  voice  and  opinion  is  listened  to 
in  all  matters.  The  steward  at  Tomb  goes  to  dine  with 

Baron  W ,  without  being  invited  ;   he  occupies,  as  a 

guest,  the  seat  of  honor  at  table ;  the  host  converses  with 
him  as  with  one  equal  to  him  in  rank.  They  show  him 
the  young  ladies'  embroidery ;  they  chat  with  him  and  he 
dances  with  them,  when  there  is  an  opportunity.  The 
Counts'  as  well  as  the  peasants'  daughters  say  "  thou  "  to 
their  parents.  The  clergyman's  daughter  isfroken  (lady)  ; 
whereas  the  daughter  of  a  rich  landed  proprietor,  unless 
her  father  is  a  high  military  or  civil  officer,  is  simply  Miss, 
or  jomfrii.  Beside  this  humane  spirit  of  equality,  there 
is  amongst  the  good  Norwegians  a  strong  sentiment  of 


188  LETTERS. 

national  pride,  which  frequently  degenerates  into  personal 
rudeness  and  dorskhed  (clumsiness),  which  they  themselves 
turn  into  caricature  by  calling  it  NorsTched  (Norwegianism)  ; 
and  they  seem  ever  ready  to  say,  "  Get  out  of  my  way, 
thou !  nobody  in  the  world  is  as  good  as  I  am ! "  The 
inhabitants  of  Trondhjem  distinguish  themselves  above  all 
others  by  this  spirit,  and  consider  the  name,  a  Tronder,  the 
highest  in  the  world.  Beyond  Trondhjem,  in  towns  sepa- 
rated from  each  other  by  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  to  two  hundred  English  miles,  and  obscured  the 
greater  part  of  the  year  by  a  veil  of  darkness  and  cold, 
there  prevails,  I  understand,  a  higher  degree  of  civilization 
than  in  the  more  southern  parts  of  Norway.  "  What  is 
the  reason  of  this  ? "  I  asked  the  steward  here,  who  was 
born  in  the  north.  "  Because,"  said  he,  "  people  in  the 
north  have  so  very  few  amusements,  and  they  are,  there- 
fore, thrown  more  upon  their  intellectual  resources ;  to 
these  they  must  look  for  what  makes  life  valuable  and 
beautiful."  —  "  But,"  I  said,  "  the  labor  for  daily  bread,  to 
procure  the  means  of  existence,  must  be  very  heavy  there, 
and  cannot  allow  much  time  for  a  more  refined  education  ?  " 
"  No,  their  requirements  are  easily  satisfied.  Their  exten- 
sive fisheries,  which  constitute  their  most  lucrative  branch 
of  trade,  enable  them  to  procure  with  facility  all  they  want, 
and  their  material  wants  are  few.  The  majority  of  the 
inhabitants  are  in  good  circumstances,  and  find  themselves 
happy  and  comfortable." 

My  dear  Frances,  does  not  this  sound  delightful  ? "  I 
wonder  whether  the  people  up  there  in  the  dismal  north 
do  not,  after  all,  live  a  more  buoyant,  a  better,  a  more  hu- 
manly beautiful  life,  than  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  turbu- 
lent Paris,  and  of  the  great  workshop  London,  the  mighty 
centres  of  art  and  of  the  civilization  of  the  present  cent- 
ury? Thank  God!  little  is  required  to  live  a  life  hu- 
manely pure  and  happy. 

With  respect  to  Sweden,  the  temper  of  the  Norwegians 


LETTERS.  ]  SO 

is  a  little  aigre  doux.  Norway  regards  the  union  with 
Sweden  with  rather  sour  looks.  Many  complaints  have 
been  made  that  Norway  is  not  allowed  to  have  her  own 
flag,  and  that  in  the  Swedish  flag,  which  they  are  obliged 
to  use,  Norway  is  represented  as  a  province  subject  to 
Sweden.1  But  if  the  Norwegians  are  not  yet  quite  satis- 
fied with  Sweden,  they  are,  nevertheless,  f.ir  more  pleased 
at  being  united  with  the  Swedes  than  with  the  Danes, 
which  latter  they  look  down  on.  They  are,  however,  most 
satisfied  with  themselves,  although  the  more  enlightened 
amongst  them  look  upon  this  self-satisfaction  rather  as  a 
fault.  History  shows  the  Norwegians  to  be  a  brave,  but  a 
turbulent  and  always  grumbling  people.  Possibly  the  phil- 
osophical —  and  with  it  also  the  humanistic  —  education, 
which  begins  to  be  spread  here  more  and  more,  may  alter 
this  and  produce  more  peaceable  feelings  between  neigh- 
bor families,  as  well  as  for  the  neighbor  country.  I  can 
say  nothing  but  good  of  the  Norwegians,  as  far  as  my  own 
experience  of  them  goes.  To  me  they  have  always  been 
most  friendly.  The  Norwegian  women  especially  appear 
to  me  very  agreeable,  on  account  of  their  pleasant,  lively, 
and  naive  manners.  One  feels  perfectly  comfortable  and 
at  home  in  their  society. 

Farewell,  dearest  Frances,  and  be  happy ! 

TOMB,  18th  April,  1830. 

My  sincerest  thanks,  dearest  Frances,  for  two  letters,  and 
especially  for  the  last  one,  so  kind,  so  like  yourself,  which 
might  awaken  in  me  a  desire  to  write  a  whole  volume  in 
answer  to  it.  Let  me  first  congratulate  you  on  having  re- 
visited your  native  country,  your  relatives,  and  your  friends, 
and  let  me  express  my  sincere  wish  and  my  hope  that  this 
journey  may  give  you  strength  and  reestablish  your  health. 

Yes,  it  is  true  that  body  and  soul  are  in  close  connection 

i  This  matter  has,  since  the  above  was  written,  been  satisfactorily  ar- 
ranged. 


190  LETTERS. 

with  each  other.  The  former  influences  the  latter,  and  so 
vice  versa.  I  have  never  mistaken  this  reciprocal  influ- 
ence ;  but  under  certain  circumstances  it  is  good  and  per- 
haps even  necessary  that  the  body  should  suffer,  in  order 
that  the  soul  may  take  a  higher  flight.  Childhood  and 
youth  ought  to  be  carefully  tended  and  corporeally  devel- 
oped ;  but  the  adult,  the  man,  who  is  too  careful  of  his 
body,  his  sleep,  his  meals,  in  a  word  of  his  health,  will 
never  become  a  great  man.  In  order  to  become  such  a 
one,  waking,  working  exertions  of  all  kinds  are  required. 
Theory  and  experience  prove  this.  And  if  I  must  suc- 
cumb, I  will  much  rather  do  it  for  the  sake  of  my  soul  than 
for  the  sake  of  my  body.  In  most  cases,  however,  this 
alternative  is  not  required  ;  and  if  only  the  foremost  word 
in  life  is  soul,  then  the  second  may,  gladly  for  me,  be  body, 
namely,  in  mature  age.  My  disease  has  had,  as  it  were,  its 
seat  between  body  and  soul ;  but  the  real  life  of  the  latter 
it  has  not  touched.  Even  when  I  felt  its  influence  most ; 
when  I  felt  that  I  was  a  bore  to  myself  and  to  others; 
when  I  was  obliged  to  shun  those  dearest  and  nearest  to 
me,  even  then  I  could,  like  Gregoire  (in  Victor  Hugo's 
novel,  "Notre  Dame  de  Paris"),  to  whom  somebody  said, 
"  Vous  etes  done  bien  miserable  et  malheureux,"  answer, 
"Miserable,  oui ;  malheureux,  non."  In  truth,  I  know 
only  one  thing  which  could  now  make  me  perfectly  un- 
happy, always  supposing  that  I  do  not  lose  my  reason.  Do 
you  know  what  would  turn  my  spring  into  winter  ;  make  all 
happiness  a  misery ;  change  all  interest  in  life  to  dust  and 
ashes ;  make  my  body  mouldy  and  dried  up,  and  make  life 
a  burden  to  me  ?  If  I  were  to  lose  my  belief  in  all-loving 
God  and  Ruler  of  the  Universe,  and  in  his  perfect  revela- 
tion in  Jesus  Christ.  Then  would  I  go  forth  amongst  the 
miserable  and  destitute  in  this  world,  and  say  to  them, 
"  Brethren,  let  us  die ;  life's  greatest  treasxire  is  mere  van- 
ity, and  beyond  that  every  thing  is  only  corruption ! "  and 
I  would  lie  down  and  starve  myself  to  death.  But  I  have 


LETTERS.  191 

no  need  of  saying  this,  for  another  voice  has  made  itself 
heard,  and  has  lighted  life's  darkest  riddle ;  the  stone  has 
been  removed  from  the  grave.  Since  I  have  gained  cer- 
tainty in  this,  and  my  belief  has  been  firmly  established, 
I  am  calm.  It  is  this  certainty,  dearest  Frances,  which 
causes  me  now  to  contemplate  the  world  "  couleur  de  rose," 
and  makes  my  cheeks  easily  borrow  that  color.  When  my 
soul's  sanctuary  is  not  encumbered  by  doubts,  my  body 
bears  buoyantly  up  against  every  thing.  And  it  has  done 
so.  I  am  quite  well  again ;  at  any  rate  much  better.  It 
is  true  that  Selters-water,  repose,  and  my  leaving  off  tea 
has  essentially  contributed  hereto  ;  but  that  which,  more 
than  every  thing  else,  has  contributed  to  it,  is  that  I  have 
for  months  drank  living  mineral-waters  ;  and  this  well,  out 

of  which  I  have  been  drinking,  is  called  Countess  S . 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  her  to  you  ;  you  have  guessed 
her,  dear  Frances ;  but  one  must  know  her,  to  be  able  to 
understand  what  she  can  be  to  those  whom  she  loves.  We 
have  thought,  talked,  wept,  and  laughed  together,  and  I 
have  recovered  my  health.  Repose,  solitude,  country  air, 
a  friend,  serious  and  dear  occupations, 

"  and  mirth, 

That  humblest  harmonist  of  cares  on  earth: '' 

how  should  I  not  get  well  with  all  these  ! 

Certain  it  is,  my  dearest  Frances,  that,  with  different  nat- 
ural qualities,  different  dispositions  and  characters  follow 
different  degrees  of  activity  and  happiness.  But  there  is 
one  name  that  comprises  all  that  life  has  most  powerful 
and  most  gentle,  most  sublime  and  most  holy ;  a  name  that 
has  its  origin  in  a  moment  of  struggle  between  life  and 
death ;  a  name  which  God  himself  once  did  pronounce  in 
love  and  in  agony,  and  that  name  is  —  mother.  O  Fran- 
ces !  no  other  attribute  and  no  other  name  can  bestow  what 
this  name,  this  attribute  develops  in  the  human  heart  of 
love,  of  virtue,  of  pure  self-denial,  of  true  beauty.  And 
therefore  I  have  prized  your  lot  in  life  higher  than  mine. 


192  LETTERS. 

But  do  not  therefore  believe  that  I  underrate  mine.  No,  I 
thank  God  for  it,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  guard  against  the 
egotism  and  meanness  which  so  frequently  sully  an  author, 
by  that  earnestness  which  grasps  life  in  its  profundity,  and 
by  thinking  only  one  thing  is  of  importance  —  to  do  good. 
In  my  walk  in  life  I  shall  also  try  to  labor  for  the  good. 
Should  I  not  succeed,  I  shall  then  rejoice  if  others  succeed 
better.  That  God's  will  be  done  and  the  welfare  of  man- 
kind be  promoted,  that  is  the  essential,  the  beautiful,  and 
the  good  of  life. 

I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  your  remarks  about 
"  Nina."  If  you  will  let  me  hear  some  more  of  them,  I 
should  be  still  more  grateful  to  you.  Your  words  are  al- 
ways delightful  to  me,  and  afford  me  many  subjects  for 
reflection.  You  are  right  in  saying  that  I  ought  not  to 
shrink  from  the  severest  criticism,  as  long  as  it  is  profound, 
true,  and  enlightening.  But  a  criticism,  like  that  of  Mr. 

A n's,  which  is  full   of  arrogance,  superficial,  bitter, 

hasty,  full  of  contradictions,  neither  sensible  nor  true,  can 
only  provoke  indignation.  But  do  not  fancy  that  my  indig- 
nation was  either  bitter  or  of  long  duration.  It  was  like 
April  snow,  or  like  the  crackling  of  burning  pine  wood. 
This  unwise  criticism  defeats  its  own  end,  and  truth  is  in- 
deed not  a  gainer  thereby.  It  is  no  easy  task  to  be  a  good 
critic.  It  requires  a  knowledge  and  a  profundity  of  thought, 
of  which  common  critics  have  no  idea.  Fortunate  it  is 
that  an  author  has  other  sources  than  these,  to  which  he 
can  look  for  light  and  power.  The  opinion  of  highly  edu- 
cated women  is  of  the  greatest  value  to  me.  In  feeling 
and  in  judgment  they  have  a  correctness  which  is  incontro- 
vertible, when  man  and  what  relates  to  him  is  in  question. 
"Women  have  been  my  best  critics,  and  if  I  could  have  fol- 
lowed their  advice  more  I  should  have  avoided  many  faults. 
Yes,  many  and  great  faults  have  I  made  in  my  calling ; 
nobody  can  feel  this  more  acutely  than  I,  and  nobody  can 
be  so  dissatisfied  with  "  Nina  "  as  I  am.  Mr.  A n  was 


LETTERS.  193 

quite  welcome  to  exclaim  "  Woe  !  woe  ! "  if  he  had  only 
done  so  in  a  reasonable  way.  But  I  cannot  be  angry  with 
him ;  he  meant  well,  and  every  body  has  his  own  way  of 
doing  a  thing.  But  smile  I  must,  when  I  see  how  the 
critics  think  that  they  can  make  "  la  pluie  et  le  beau  temps  " 
for  the  authoress.  That  which  gives  light  to  thought  and 
power  to  the  heart  does  indeed  not  come  from  them. 

Yes,  my  dearest  Frances,  there  exists  a  source  of  happi- 
ness and  of  goodness,  —  for  the  soul  becomes  good  by  drink- 
ing of  it,  —  a  source  which  makes  us  independent  of  our 
own  fortune  or  misfortune,  and  that  is  —  philosophy  ;  the 
contemplation  of  life,  of  man,  of  God  and  His  works. 
The  more  we  therein  attain  coherence  and  clearness,  the 
more  the  great  and  the  little,  the  past,  the  present,  and 
the  future  gain  consistency  in  a  higher  light,  the  calmer 
and  the  happier  our  mind  becomes.  Oh !  there  is  happi- 
ness, devotion,  bliss  in  this  path,  which  only  he  feels  who, 
with  a  warm  heart,  has  wandered  along  it.  Malebranche's 
"  Vision  en  Dieu  "  is,  rightly  understood,  I  believe,  the  re- 
sult of  true  philosophy,  and  therefore  it  makes  me  so  happy. 
Those  who  imagine  that  I  here  mean  a  fantastic  sight,  or 
what  we  in  e very-day  language  call  a  vision,  understand  me 
very  little.  But  you,  Frances,  will  not  misunderstand  me. 

Certainly,  dearest  friend,  I  would  wish  to  go  to  England. 
I  would  wish  to  become  acquainted  with  the  people,  whom 
you  know,  and  whose  active  philanthropy  has  made  them 
so  lovable  ;  I  would  wish  to  learn  more  to  value  the  im- 
portant questions,  the  useful  and  practical  sciences,  which 
your  native  country,  par  excellence,  works  out  for  the  ben- 
efit of  mankind.  (When  I  say  value,  I  do  not  employ  the 
right  word.  I  can  value  them,  because  I  know  their  tend- 
ency ;  but  I  should  wish  to  understand  them  better.)  But 
perhaps  this  would  not  be  of  any  importance  for  my  real 
development.  In  order  to  be  able  to  work  out  something 
good,  one  ought  to  perfect  oneself  in  some  special  branch 
of  knowledge  and  ability.  To  do  this,  one  must,  above  all, 
13 


194  LETTERS. 

learn  to  know  one's  real  powers.  I  believe  that  I  have 
found  out  mine,  and  I  am  of  opinion  that  my  literary  activ- 
ity ought,  to  confine  itself  to  the  delineation  of  family  life, 
which  is  the  nurse  of  the  State,  of  eternal  life,  and  of  the 
individual  man.  To  portray  that  which  makes  the  family 
tie  delightful  and  secure  ;  which,  in  all  changes  of  life, 
makes  the  individual  man  safe  and  good ;  this,  and  the  de- 
lineation of  original  characters  and  of  peculiar  events  and 
circumstances,  I  consider  to  be  my  task,  —  that  in  which  I 
ought  to  try  to  improve  myself.  Solitude,  reflection,  and 
good  books  will,  I  believe,  guide  me  to  the  goal,  although 
certainly  conversations  with  enlightened  people,  and  a 
more  extensive  knowledge  of  the  world,  would  be  of  im- 
mense value  to  me ;  but  one  cannot  have  every  thing  at 
once,  and  for  my  present  purpose  the  first-mentioned  means 
are  the  most  important. 

I  may  perchance  not  be  able  to  see  you  again  for  many 
years,  and  I  wish  therefore  that  you,  who  have  been  so  kind 
to  me,  and  whom  I  value  so  highly  and  so  sincerely,  should 
rightly  understand  me.  Take,  therefore,  here  this  hasty 
sketch  of  the  plan  of  a  work  which,  above  all  others,  I  have 
in  view ;  one  to  which  all  my  other  works  are  mere  pre- 
ludes ;  one  which  is  never  out  of  my  thoughts,  and  for 
which  I  wish  to  mature  and  to  labor  for  several  years  to 
come.  It  is  closely  connected  with  my  views  of  life.  But 
remember,  that  I  do  not  here  propound  any  axioms  for 
others,  but  merely  state  my  own  opinion. 

To  man,  his  religious  views  are  of  paramount  impor- 
tance. Consciously  or  unconsciously,  he  regulates  his  life, 
his  morality,  in  accordance  with  them.  Man's  happiness 
and  virtue  depend  entirely  upon  the  idea  which  he  forms 
of  God,  of  His  will  and  His  Providence,  of  His  relation 
to  mankind,  man's  own  mission  in  the  world,  and  his  belief 
in  a  future  life.  The  best  police  regulations  cannot  supply 
what  is  wanting  in  society,  when  this  life-giving  longing  for 
all  that  is  good,  for  the  knowledge  of  God  and  love  of  His 


LETTERS.  195 

will,  is  gone.  An  impenetrable  veil  hides  the  truths  of  the 
gospel  from  most  people's  eyes.  Philosophy  in  our  days 
has  partially  removed  this  veil.  But  this  philosophy  is  any 
thing  but  popular.  My  sincerest  wish,  my  earnest  labor 
shall  be  to  make  it  popular.  This  labor  shall  be  my  last 
will  and  testament.  What  philosophy  has  taught  me,  I 
shall  teach  others,  in  simple  language,  which  the  learned  do 
not  like,  perchance  cannot  employ.  It  is  mainly  this :  phil- 
osophy has  taught  me  to  understand  the  connection  between 
the  kingdoms  of  life ;  has  taught  me  to  conceive  how  the 
same  mighty  power  is  working  throughout  the  universe, 
although  in  different  degrees.  Above  all,  the  philosophy  of 
history  has  taught  me  to  comprehend  that  the  voice  which 
pervades  all  mankind,  —  this  :  "  See  !  I  tell  you  a  secret," 
—  which  in  all  religions  has  preached  to  man  of  a  higher 
Being,  of  a  life  after  this,  of  punishments  and  rewards,  has 
spoken  purest  and  clearest  through  Christ;  that  Christian- 
ity is  the  only  pure  ore  of  all  religions ;  and  that  Brahma, 
Buddha,  Odin,  and  others,  in  their  best  doctrines  have  said, 
only  imperfectly  and  partially,  what  has  been  so  beautifully 
revealed  in  Christianity.  And  this  revelation,  contem- 
plated in  connection  with  other  religious  doctrines,  and 
with  reference  to  man's  nature,  I  intend  to  unfold,  such  as 
I  have  comprehended  it.  But  this  would  require  a  whole 
book  ;  for  a  letter  it  is  too  much.  May  I  one  day  be  able 
fully  and  clearly  to  explain  all  this !  Then  I  shall  die 
happy. 

5th  April,  1837. 

Only  a  moment  ago  all  was  as  gloomy,  as  silent,  as  if  no 
spring,  no  song  existed  in  the  world ;  but,  on  a  sudden, 
came  a  little  wind,  which  soon  dispersed  the  clouds,  and  a 
lark  rose  singing  toward  heaven.  I  listened  to  her  song, 
and  I  thought  of  you,  dearest  Frances,  and  saw  in  the  lark 
an  image  of  your  buoyant  soul,  which  for  a  moment  can  be 
oppressed  by  a  gloomy  day,  but  soon  again  soars  on  high 
full  of  life  and  joys  of  spring.  And  the  breath,  the  light 


196  LETTERS. 

which  calls  it  into  life  —  oh  !  I  know  whence  that  emanates. 
Be  it  love,  be  it  the  spring  sun,  or  a  secret,  unutterable 
hope  of  life  and  trust  in  the  eternal  goodness,  still  all  conies 
from  Him,  who  fills  creation  with  His  life  and  His  power, 
and  who  awakens  here  on  earth  love,  hope,  life,  that  He 
may  one  day  perfect  them  all.  Believing  this,  as  I  do,  with 
my  whole  heart  and  soul,  I  think,  full  of  sympathy,  of  you 
and  your  departed  darling,  your  only  daughter ;  although, 
while  reading  your  letter,  I  wept  bitterly  for  you  both. 
Silently  to  mourn  for  a  beloved  being,  who  has  been  taken 
from  us,  is  indeed  a  comfort  to  our  feelings,  and  makes  us 
beforehand  feel  familiar  with  another  world  ;  it  seems  to  us 
as  if  it  were  the  beginning  of  our  own  impending  removal. 
"  Where  your  treasure  is,  there  will  your  heart  be  also." 
Agatha  had  in  her  early  youth  a  painful  dread  of  death ; 
but  this  vanished  when  she  saw  her  beloved  brother  Au- 
gust die.  The  thought  that  he  was  expecting  her  in  another 
world  dispelled  to  her  the  darkness  of  the  grave.  I  have 
never  feared  death,  on  the  contrary  ;  but  no  thought  can  so 
much  sweeten  my  last  hour  as  this,  —  that  I  shall  then  be 
again  united  with  the  friend  whom  I  have  so  sincerely 
loved ;  who  has  been  lost  to  me  for  this  terrestrial  life,  but 
who  always  lives  in  my  heart,  so  good,  so  amiable,  such  — 
as  the  world  never  knew  her ! 

AESTA.  23d  June,  1838. 

You  have  been  ill,  my  dearest  Frances  !  I  will  now  im- 
agine that  you  are  lying  on  your  couch,  and  that  I  steal  into 
your  room  with  the  wish  to  divert  you  by  all  kinds  of  prat- 
tle. To  begin  with,  then,  a  word  about  your  brother,  whom 
we  saw  before  we  left  town  after  our  return  from  Upsala. 
He  was  delighted :  he  was  charmed ;  not  by  Ole  Bull, 
whom  we  heard  play  the  evening  before,  —  oh  dear,  no ! 
he  could  at  most  be  called  "  an  ingenious  charlatan,  a  fallen 
angel ; "  not  by  the  oranges  which  were  offered  to  him,  — 
no,  indeed,  he  never  liked  to  eat  oranges,  especially  not 


LETTERS.  197 

this  time;  not  by  the  lilies  of  the  valley,  which  he  was 
allowed  to  smell,  —  oh,  no !  they  also  were  to  him  fallen 
angels,  having  now  lost  their  original  beauty ;  no,  but  he 
was  delighted,  he  was  enchanted  at  having  got  completely 
drenched  in  a  heavy  shower  of  rain,  —  a  pleasure  which 
certainly  not  many  envied  him.  Otherwise,  he  was  agree- 
able, kind,  and  interesting,  as  he  can  be  when  he  likes. 

That  the  Emperor  Nicholas  came  down  in  the  midst  of 
us  like  a  bomb-shell,  you  know  already  long  since,  and  you 
have  probably  also  heard  some  of  the  thousands  of  anec- 
dotes which  group  themselves  round  this  "  lion,"  which  all 
have  heard,  and  yet  every  body  tells  every  body  else.  The 
general  opinion  of  him  can  be  best  expressed  in  your 
brother's  words  :  "  He  is  really  a  man  with  a  thoroughly 
imperial  exterior."  In  him  one  saw  the  personified  ruling 
majesty.  But  it  was  more  the  majesty  of  Power  than  the 
majesty  of  Mercy.  But  even  the  former  has  its  beauty. 
How  rich  is  creation  !  Of  all  its  forms,  of  all  its  revealed 
thoughts,  there  is  not  one  which  does  not  possess  its  own 
peculiar  beauty.  Creation  is  a  diamond,  all  the  facets  of 
which  can  be  turned  towards  the  light,  reflecting  its  pure 
and  glittering  rays.  Every  age,  every  stage  of  develop- 
ment, every  nation,  every  condition  of  mankind,  every  in- 
dividual man  carries  within  him  this  celestial  ray,  although 
it  is  not  always  placed  so  as  to  be  visible.  Affliction  — 
cannot  even  that  call  forth  a  peculiar  beauty ;  beauty,  be- 
side which  all  the  splendor  of  happiness,  of  .health,  and  of 
the  world  becomes  pale  ?  The  purest,  the  brightest  ray  of 
heavenly  light  which  I  have  seen,  shone  out  of  an  expiring 
eye ;  on  a  face  wasted  by  bitter  sufferings,  and  already 
darkening  under  death's  lengthening  shadows,  have  I  seen 
celestial  bliss  reflected.  Like  a  solitary,  steadily  burning 
light,  this  vision  will  follow  me  through  life  down  to  my 
grave,  and  throw  its  light  upon  it. 

But  I  have  wandered  far  away  from  Nicholas.  No  mat- 
ter !  Agatha  does  not  much  like  that  we  speak  of  him ; 


198  LETTERS. 

she  prefers  speaking  of  Upsala,  and  the  people  there  who 
she  thinks  are  "  such  real  human  beings."  I  will  not  say 
No  to  this,  because  it  was  pleasant  to  see  so  many  people 
of  distinct  species  inwardly  and  outwardly,  and  these  both 
pleasant  and  amiable,  each  in  their  way  and  in  their  con- 
tact with  others.  Such  a  merry  and  free  social  life  I  have 
nowhere  met  with.  Much  kindness  and  hospitality  was 
shown  us  by  every  body ;  we  exchanged  "  thou  "  with  whole 
battalions  of  ladies,  —  with  girls  of  seventeen  up  to  ma- 
trons of  seventy,  —  and  we  felt  besides  quite  "  thou  -ish  " 
with  professors  and  with  students.  "  Brother "  Tb'rnros, 
"Brother"  Atterbom,  "Brother"  Fahlcrantz,  "Brother" 
Bergfalk  rose  spontaneously  to  our  lips.  Beautiful  songs 
we  heard  both  day  and  night,  and  enjoyed  conversation 
and  curiosities,  more  almost  than  we  could  digest.  I  can- 
not say  that  I  have  picked  up  many  gold  nuggets  of  wisdom 
in  that  learned  city ;  neither  is  my  mind  much  bent  upon 
them  at  present.  I  would  rather  hear  a  story  of  quiet, 
private  life,  with  its  joys  and  its  sorrows,  than  listen  to  ab- 
stract reflections  upon  times  and  customs  and  manners, 
history,  arts,  and  so  on. 

You  have  been  in  Upsala,  and  I  cannot,  therefore,  tell 
you  any  thing  new  of  what  is  interesting  there.  But  I 
suppose  you  have  not  seen  the  fresco-paintings  of  Sand- 
berg  in  Gustavus  Vasa's  chapel  in  the  cathedral.  They 
are  very  beautiful,  but  most  of  them  are,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  not  expressive  of  deep  thought.  The  chief  personage, 
Gustavus  Vasa,  has,  in  nearly  all  of  them,  not  succeeded 
well.  I  like  him  most  in  the  painting  in  which  he  is  repre- 
sented as  saying  his  last  farewell  to  the  assembled  estates 
of  the  realm.  You  see  here  the  old,  but  still  vigorous 
king,  his  face  pale  with  age  and  cares,  but  with  eye  full 
of  fire,  feeling  death's  approach,  and  bidding  a  last  farewell 
to  the  people  over  whom  he  has  ruled  with  force  and  with 
kindness,  whom  he  has  loved  and  made  great.  You  fancy 
you  hear  the  words  which  Le  said  on  this  solemn  occasion : 


'    LETTERS.  199 

"  If  I  have  done  any  good,  give  God  the  honor ;  what  I 
have  failed  in,  from  human  weakness  and  error,  overlook 
and  forgive  it  for  Christ's  sake.  Many  have  called  me  a 
hard  king ;  yet  a  time  will  come  when  Sweden's  children 
would  gladly  pluck  me  out  of  the  earth  if  they  could  ! " 
These  words  are  in  golden  letters  on  blue  ground  engraved 
under  the  painting.  It  is  a  fine  idea  to  let  this  gallery  of 
paintings  round  the  tomb  upon  which  the  marble  image 
of  the  great  king  is  lying  dumb,  speak  of  his  achievements 
and  remind  us  of  his  life,  his  toils,  and  his  undaunted 
energy.  Do  you  remember  Skytte's  tomb  —  that  prayer  in 
marble  ;  that  devout  eye  ;  those  clasped  hands,  which  thus 
have  watched  and  prayed  for  centuries  ?  Were  I  a  great 
man,  I  would  then  like  to  be  so  represented  after  death,  or 
not  at  all.  Did  you  see  Linne,  where  he  is  sitting  ab- 
sorbed in  the  study  of  Nature's  book,  enraptured  at  the 
wisdom  and  the  deep  meaning  which  he  reads  in  a  tiny 
flower  ?  But  I  must  not  leave  the  cathedral  without  mak- 
ing my  "  reverence  "  to  the  splendid,  lofty  cupola.  That 
is  also,  as  it  were,  a  prayer,  a  bold,  fervent  approach  to  the 
Most  High ;  a  gently  rising  heaven  under  heaven.  Fahl- 
crantz  said  to  me,  "  When  I  become  peevish  and  irritable, 
which  happens  occasionally  during  my  toils  of  every-day 
life,  I  know  no  feeling  so  elevating  and  cheering  as  that 
which  fills  my  soul  when  I  wander  under  this  dome."  And 
so  I  say  farewell  to  the  old  cathedral !  Of  all  the  remark- 
able objects  of  interest,  which  I  have  seen  in  our  little  trip, 
this  is  the  only  one  which  has  made  a  grand  and  lasting 
impression  upon  me. 

ARSTA,  llth  September,  1838. 

I  thank  you  most  sincerely,  my  dearest  Frances,  for  the 
pleasure  which  your  letter  has  given  me.  You  say,  "  I  am 
happy."  No  words  have  a  more  pleasant  sound  in  my  ear. 
It  does  me  so  much  good  to  hear  this  from  your  own  lips, 
and  to  fancy  that  I  see  your  eye  beaming  with  happiness. 
I  feel  with  regret  that  I  have  not  been  to  you  what  I  ought 


200  LETTERS. 

to  have  been.  It  is  much  my  own  fault,  arising  from  want 
of  calmness  and  clearness  in  expressing  myself;  but  much 
is  also  owing  to  circumstances.  Last  winter  I  went  often 
to  see  you,  my  soul  overflowing  with  words,  which  I  thought 
would  have  been  full  of  comfort  to  you  after  the  loss  of 
your  daughter ;  for  I  know  there  was  consolation  and  light 
in  them, —  light  which  streams  forth  out  of  the  treasures 
of  the  Word,  but  which  the  human  soul  is  not  always  capa- 
ble of  receiving  with  equal  life  and  clearness.  I  longed 
to  communicate  with  you,  but  you  were  never  alone,  and  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  speak  on  serious  subjects  in  the 
presence  of  a  third  person,  a  mere  listener.  We  shall 
meet  again,  if  it  pleases  God,  and  then,  I  trust,  in  a  brighter 
and  more  hopeful  frame  of  mind.  Yes,  oh  yes  !  we  shall 
again  rejoice  in  the  light  which  the  gospel  sheds  over  the 
gloomiest  portion  of  our  life,  of  our  fate.  Next  year  I 
shall  devote  almost  exclusively  to  the  study  of  the  Bible. 
In  much  I  hope  to  gain  more  clearness,  more  coherence ; 
but  I  know  that  many  of  the  details  will  remain  dark  and 
incomprehensible  to  me.  But  during  this  study,  I  shall 
steadily  adhere  to  one  opinion ;  and  that  is,  that  the  Bible, 
like  all  writings,  has  its  body  and  its  soul.  The  body  may 
change,  may  grow  old,  may  become  deformed  ;  yet  the  soul 
will  remain  the  same  in  all  its  main  features.  The  written 
word  is  the  body ;  the  spirit  is  the  soul.  By  rightly  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  the  latter,  we  shall  learn  to  interpret 
the  meaning  truly  and  best,  even  where  it  has  become  less 
clear  from  bodily  defects.  But  I  know  that  what  is  dark 
and  incomprehensible  will  not  disturb  me  any  more.  The 
knowledge  of  the  wants  of  mankind,  and  a  devout  acquaint- 
ance with  Christ's  individuality,  give  to  his  existence,  life, 
and  teachings  a  reality,  and  give  also  a  firmness  to  our 
belief  (namely,  to  a  sensible,  rational  belief)  in  Him,  which 
no  obscurity  of  occasional  passages  and  no  fit  of  doubt  can 
shake.  And  these  difficulties,  doubts,  disquietudes,  and 
sufferings,  which  formerly  so  often  have  assailed  me,  have 


LETTERS.  201 

now,  like  questions  humbly  waiting  for  reply,  fallen  at  the 
Redeemer's  feet,  patiently  waiting  for  the  hour  when  it 
shall  please  Him  to  remove  the  veil. 

TOMB,  9th  March,  1839. 

Your  letter,  my  dearest  Frances,  has  made  me  both  sad 
and  happy ;  sad,  because  I  have  so  little  deserved  it,  and  at 
the  receipt  thereof,  I  could  not  but  reproach  myself  very 
deeply  for  not  having  earlier  congratulated  you  on  the  birth 
of  your  little  son ;  happy,  on  account  of  your  hearty  and 
loving  words.  I  have  often  longed  to  speak  with  you  about 
life's  fullness  and  beauty,  and  to  share  with  you  your  happi- 
ness in  the  future,  which  probably  is  in  store  for  your  chil- 
dren. Love  and  purity  in  the  home,  harmony  between 
the  parents :  this  is  a  blessing  to  the  children ;  it  opens  at  an 
early  age  their  eyes  and  hearts  to  all  that  is  good  and  noble 
in  life.  Ah !  well  may  we  rejoice  at  having  been  born  in 
this  world,  although  here  is  much  of  evil,  much  of  suffer- 
ing, if  we  only  would  see  that  our  life  is  an  education,  lead- 
ing to  perfection,  under  the  guidance  of  an  all -good  and 
Almighty  Father ;  if  we  would  but  see  that  it  is  a  progress 
upwards  to  a  heavenly  home.  You  know  that  affliction  has 
to  me  been  a  heavy  burden  in  this  world,  both  to  my  heart 
and  to  my  mind  ;  yes,  it  has  dimmed  for  me  all  the  beauty 
of  this  world  of  ours ;  but  the  happiness  which,  during 
these  latter  years,  I  have  deeply  felt,  has  opened  my  eyes, 
while  the  Crucified  One  has  reconciled  me  to  the  sufferings 
on  earth,  or  has  chased  away  its  darkness  and  bitterness, 
through  the  light  which  He  has  shed  beyond  the  grave, 
beyond  all  earthly  darkness,  sorrow,  and  affliction.  There 
is  a  last  and  highest  court  to  which  mankind  can  appeal  for 
the  solution  of  all  life's  enigmas ;  a  Judge  to  whom  we  can 
refer  those  cases  on  which  no  earthly  tribunals  can  give  a 
verdict.  But  that  One  is  all  sufficient.  With  our  eyes 
steadily  fixed  on  Him,  we  can  confidently  wander  through 
life,  rejoice  at  the  good,  and,  each  in  our  way,  add  our  mite 


202  LETTERS. 

thereto.  Pleasing  in  the  highest  degree,  indeed,  is  the  fer- 
ment of  the  times  in  which  we  live :  the  development 
of  the  state  into  a  constitutional  society ;  a  development 
founded  upon  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  of  liberty,  and 
equality,  and  which  makes  every  individual,  every  talent, 
every  power  valuable  and  useful  in  the  whole.  Christ  is 
the  first  originator  of  true  liberalism.  He  made  religion 
popular,  and  with  it  and  through  it  also  every  other  good 
teaching  and  wisdom ;  for  if  all  human  beings  are  in  reality 
the  children  of  the  same  Father  and  equal  before  Him, 
then  they  also  have  all  an  equal  right  to  enjoy  the  blessings 
which  the  genius  of  man  can  create.  Is  it  not  this  knowl- 
edge which,  after  and  through  many  long  and  sanguinary 
conflicts,  permeates  the  age  and  reorganizes  society ; 
erects  schools ;  instructs  the  children  of  the  poor  ;  spreads 
amongst  all  classes  the  results  of  scientific  researches  ;  re- 
sounds in  the  chords  of  poetry's  lyre  (the  whole  of  the 
modern  literature  of  romance  is  but  a  lay,  a  development 
of  the  moral  truths,  which  flow  out  of  this  one  great  truth)  ; 
draws  nearer  to  each  other  master  and  man  ;  unites  more 
closely  parents  and  children  ;  eradicates  hateful  prejudices 
and  humanizes  the  world  ?  Long  life,  therefore,  to  print- 
ing-presses, steamboats,  and  all  such  inventions,  for  they 
are  the  heralds  of  ideas ;  and,  above  all,  long  life  to  the 
ideas  themselves,  —  the  great,  the  noble,  I  mean  ;  to  their 
organs,  mankind ;  and,  above  all,  praise  to  the  Great  and 
the  Good,  who  sends  them !  This  was  a  wide  embrace,  my 
dear  Frances ;  but  such  a  one  is  sometimes  wanted,  to  be 
able  heartily  to  embrace  also  what  is  little  within  our  own 
little  world  and  sphere  of  activity.  In  contemplating  this 
great  institution,  the  world,  we  can  better  understand  our 
own  place  there,  our  mission  and  our  children's,  be  they 
human  beings  or  books. 

For  my  next  work  I  want  a  vignette,  representing  a 
butterfly  fluttering  over  its  chrysalis.  The  world-life  in 
all  its  forms,  has  no  truer  image  of  its  reality,  its  essence. 


LETTERS.  203 

The  chrysalis  —  this  body  of  earth's  dust,  which  envelops 
and  fetters  Psyche's  wings  —  that  it  is  which  binds,  which 
impedes,  which  burdens  you  and  me  and  most  people. 
The  chrysalides  of  home  are  the  household  cares  with 
all  their  concomitant  difficulties  and  hardships.  I  know 
many  married  women,  who,  like  yourself,  endure  and  man- 
age these  against  their  inclination,  from  a  mere  sense  of 
duty  and  necessity ;  but  to  you,  as  well  as  to  them,  the 
thought  must  be  very  encouraging  and  consolatory  under 
all  the  moments  devoted,  to  all  appearance  uselessly,  to 
speculations  about  eating  and  other  household  duties,  that 
it  is  only  under  this  chrysalis  that  home's  Psyche  can  de- 
velop herself.  But  I  hope  meanwhile  that  in  future 
this  machinery  of  life  may  be  simplified  and  made  more 
easy.  This  would  be  especially  desirable  for  our  mothers 
of  families  here  in  the  North.  Be  this  as  it  may,  our  soul 
becomes  materialized  from  too  much  occupation  with  the 
material. 

18th  May,  1839. 

True  it  is  that  a  mother,  a  housewife  in  Sweden,  is 
obliged,  more  than  in  southern  countries,  to  devote  herself 
to  practical  life  in  her  house  and  in  her  home  —  provided 
she  wishes  to  fulfill  her  duties  —  and  that  she  must  deny 
herself,  comparatively,  many  of  the  enjoyments  of  intel- 
lectual life  and  of  the  fine  arts.  And  if  human  worth 
consisted  in  these,  or  if  they  essentially  contributed  to  the 
development  of  our  eternal  nature,  then  it  would  be  a  hard 
fate  to  be  a  wife  and  a  mother  in  Sweden.  But  it  is  not 
so.  That  which  really  constitutes  human  worth  is  moral 
virtue  and  an '  exalted  mind  ;  it  is  only  this  which  unites 
man  with  God ;  which  gives  the  rank  of  citizen  in  His 
kingdom  here  on  earth  and  in  heaven.  Oh  !  my  dear 
Frances,  this  was  always  a  delightful  thought  to  me,  and 
this  doctrine  of  Christianity,  which  equalizes  all  ranks  on 
earth,  which  weakens  the  power  of  all  external  contingen- 


204  LETTERS. 

cies,  this  it  was  that  from  my  earliest  youth  drew  me  to  the 
gospel,  already  before  I  understood  all  the  depth,  all  the 
happiness,  contained  in  its  "joyful  message."  You  see, 
dearest  friend,  that  it  is  this  which  makes  the  poor  fisher- 
man, the  simple  peasant's  wife,  quell  what  is  evil  in  their 
propensities  and  in  their  nature,  in  order  to  follow  Christ's 
teachings,  and  thus  stand  nearer  God  than  the  greatest 
philosopher  and  the  most  distinguished  scientific  man  in 
the  intellectual  circles  of  London  or  Paris,  if  these  do  not 
also  overcome  their  sinful  nature,  their  pride,  or  other  evil 
passions  which  may  possess  them.  If  now  we  contemplate 
woman's  position  in  our  Swedish  homes,  we  shall  find  it 
brightening  more  and  more,  when  we  consider  that  the 
practical  life  in  the  same,  the  relation  between  parents, 
children  and  servants  and  others,  tends  more  to  develop 
people's  moral  virtues  than  books  and  all  the  intellectual 
education  in  the  world.  From  this,  however,  I  except 
Christian  knowledge,  which  comprises  the  wisest  doctrines 
of  the  past  and  present  times  relating  to  God  and  man, 
and  which  knowledge  we  stand  in  need  of  in  order  to  live 
as  we  ought  to  do.  This  knowledge  we  all  gain,  in  the  civ- 
ilized world,  directly  or  indirectly  through  the  gospel ;  for 
all  the  state,  society,  literature,  etc.,  etc.,  is  now  founded 
upon  Christianity,  and  almost  all  of  us  know  what  we 
ought  to  do.  But  these  moral  duties  are  not  easy  to  fulfill ; 
moral  goodness  and  nobleness  is  difficult  to  attain,  sur- 
rounded as  we  are  by  sinful  fellow-creatures,  and  in  our 
contest  with  them  and  with  our  own  faults  and  weaknesses. 
How  deeply  have  I  not  felt  and  do  I  not  feel  this  in  my  own 
weak  and  restless  soul !  It  is  only  Christianity's  doctrine 
of  God ;  of  His  love  to  us ;  of  what  He  has  done  for  us 
and  intends  doing  with  us  ;  it  is  only  the  love  for  Him,  which 
is  a  result  thereof  in  our  hearts ;  only  prayer,  through 
which  we  approach  Him  and  experience  the  affinity  of  His 
spirit  with  ours ;  —  it  is  this  only,  which  can  strengthen 
our  desire  to  practice  what  is  really  pure  and  good ;  which 


LETTERS.  205 

can  create  within  us  the  harmonious  frame  of  mind,  from 
which  emanates  meekness,  tolerance,  patience  —  in  a  word 
all  the  virtues  of  Christian  love,  which  give  peace  to  our 
own  heart ;  make  our  home  pleasant ;  our  nearest  and 
dearest  happy ;  and  which  opens  for  us,  after  this  life,  the 
heavenly  home,  where  harmonies  resound,  more  beautiful 
than  those  with  which  Mozart's  Genii  in  the  "  Magic 
Flute  "  enchant  our  ear,  as  a  foretaste  of  the  eternal  har- 
monies. The  songs  of  the  Genii  in  the  "  Magic  Flute  ! " 
Yes,  if  any  thing  can  give  us  an  idea  of  Paradise,  it  is  that 
music.  How  well  I  understand  the  feeling  that  has  been 
awakened  in  your  soul ;  such  sensations  I  have  myself 
often  experienced  during  the  preludes  of  the  organ  in  our 
churches,  before  the  hymn  was  sung.  There  is  something 
so  sweet  and  earnest  in  these  melodies,  quite  separate  from 
earthly  joys,  but  which  tells  me  of  the  joys  of  the  blessed 
in  heaven. 

26th  August,  1839. 

"Well  now,  my  lazy  hand !  take  up  the  pen,  for  I  must 
tell  my  dear  Frances  what  I  have  been  busy  writing  to 
her  every  day  in  my  thoughts.  Yes,  —  what  was  it  all 
about  ?  Indeed,  I  can  now  only  remember  your  own  words 
in  your  last  letter  :  "  What  a  happiness  it  is  to  love  !  "  for 
these  words  have  haunted  me  continually  during  all  this 
time  of  sorrow  as  well  as  happiness.  Yes  !  to  love  —  that 
is  happiness,  that  is  bliss,  that  is  life's  summer.  How  well 
do  I  not  feel  the  truth  of  St.  Theresa's  words  about  the 
wicked :  "  The  unhappy  !  they  do  not  love."  Could  we  but 
always  love  —  first  God  and  then  our  fellow-men.  Yes, 
then  life  would  not  be  weary.  Oh,  Frances !  He  who  re- 
vealed God,  our  Creator,  as  Love,  and  who  ordained  that 
love  for  Him  and  for  our  fellow-men  should  be  the  law  of 
our  life,  should  be  the  condition  for  gaining  eternal  life, 
eternal  bliss  and  fullness,  —  has  He  not  at  the  same  time 
given  us  the  surest  guide  to  attain  eternal  bliss.  Indeed  ! 
He  is  the  best  teacher  how  to  gain  happiness.  How  have 


206  LETTERS. 

I  not  felt  Him  to  be  so,  not  only  in  my  heart,  but  also  in 
my  home.  But  I  ought  to  speak,  not  to  write  about  this. 
About  this  :  "  What  a  happiness  it  is  to  love,"  I  said  the 
other  day  in  a  few  words  to  the  good,  honest  Agren.  You 
would  have  embraced  him  if  you  had  seen  the  indescrib- 
able expression  of  love  which  spread  over  his  honest  face, 
while  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  when  he  said,  "  that 
to  love  certainly  gave  happiness,  but  that  it  also  caused  so 
much  pain,  so  much  suffering,  that  it  is  quite  dreadful." 
Alas  !  it  may  be  so ;  but  also  this  suffering  has  its  sweets. 
It  does  not  embitter,  it  ennobles.  Our  soul  does  not  be- 
come mouldy  under  it ;  it  becomes  invigorated  and  soars 
heavenward. 

And  now  let  me  speak  of  what  has  called  forth  this 
paraphrase  of  your  words.  Agatha  has  been  very  ill. 
Our  mother  and  I  have  been  exceedingly  uneasy  on  her 
account,  and  yet,  in  the  midst  of  our  distress  and  our  anx- 
iety, we  felt  peace,  aye,  had  even  many  happy  moments, 
because  we  loved  one  another  and  felt  it  then  so  warmly. 
Now,  when  our  Agatha,  after  nearly  three  weeks'  painful 
illness,  is  again  restored,  we  feel  so  happy,  and  cannot  say 
gratefully  enough :  "  God  be  thanked ! "  and  she  is  now 
more  than  ever  every  body's  in  the  family  "  little  lady  ;  "  is 
lauded  to  the  skies  for  every  morsel  which  she  eats ;  is 
protected  against  every  puff  of  wind,  and  is  fondled  and 
petted  in  every  way.  Yet,  I  have  never  found  her  to  be  a 
more  earnest  and  amiable  creature  than  just  now. 

9th  September,  1839. 

Only  a  few  words  to-day,  my  dearest  Frances,  to  thank 
you  most  sincerely  for  your  letter  of  the  30th  of  last  month, 
and  to  tell  you,  that  those  who  here  love  you  so  warmly 
sympathize  with  you  in  the  loss  of  your  friend,  and  long  to 
see  you  well  and  happy  again.  Happy !  yes  certainly,  for 
the  departed  one  was,  as  you  say  yourself,  prepared,  and 
thus  she  lives  and  will  love  you  in  the  better  world  which 


LETTERS.  207 

God  has  prepared  for  those  who  are  His  own.  The  death 
of  a  good  person,  has  to  me  something  beautiful  in  it,  be- 
cause I  look  upon  death  in  the  light  of  Christianity ;  as 
a  transition  from  this  to  another  life  —  for  those  who  are 
good  to  a  higher  existence.  I  do  not  wonder,  dearest 
Frances,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement  is  still  so  often 
obscure  to  you,  for  I  know  from  my  own  experience  how 
deeply  rooted  in  our  mind  are  the  notions  which  we  have 
been  imbued  with  in  childhood  and  in  youth,  and  how 
difficult  it  is  to  divest  ourselves  of  them,  notwithstanding 
that  they  so  often  appear  unsatisfactory  and  dark.  I 
wish  that  I  could  express  my  thoughts  so  that  they  found 
an  echo  in  your  heart.  I  shall  endeavor  to  do  so,  if  you  wish 
it,  when  I  have  more  leisure  and  peace.  I  shall  now  only 
remark,  with  regard  to  the  6th  chapter  of  the  Gospel  of 
St.  John,  that  Jesus  himself  divests  his  words  of  all  ma- 
terial interpretation,  when  in  the  63d  verse  He  says :  "  It  is 
the  spirit  that  quickeneth  ;  the  flesh  projiteth  nothing  ;  the 
words  that  I  speak  unto  you,  they  are  spirit  and  they  are 
life"  Blood,  in  the  Hebrew,  and  in  many  languages,  is 
equivalent  to  life  ;  bread  signifies  doctrine.  Jesus  represents 
Himself  here  as  the  bread  of  life,  by  His  life  as  well  as  by 
His  doctrine.  With  everlasting  life  is  here  and  everywhere 
in  the  Scriptures  not  meant  eternal  life,  with  reference  to 
space  of  time  (for  even  the  wicked  have  thus  eternal  life), 
but  the  real,  full,  blissful  life ;  in  a  word,  God's,  the  Eternal 
life.  Our  Saviour  says  in  this  chapter :  "  The  bread 
(manna)  which  feedeth  the  body  is  not  heavenly  food,  and 
saves  neither  from  spiritual  nor  from  bodily  death  "  (the 
hardened  sinner  is  said  to  be  spiritually  dead),  "but  I, 
my  life  (blood,)  my  doctrine  (bread,)  am  the  true  bread 
which  cometh  down  from  heaven  and  giveth  life."  This 
new  life  (God's  life,  eternal  life)  by  which  man  gains 
strength  to  overcome  his  evil  passions,  to  become  purer 
and  more  loving,  Jesus  has  grafted  on  the  world  ('<  I  am 
the  vine  and  ye  are  the  branches")  by  His  life,  and  His 


208  LETTERS. 

doctrine  of  His  revelation  of  God's  heart  and  will,  and 
our  relation  to  Him  and  to  the  next  world.  By  graft- 
ing that  life  on  the  world,  upon  us,  He  has  reconciled 
the  world  and  us  with  God,  or,  according  to  the  words  of 
St.  Paul :  "  God  was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto 
Himself."  When  He  makes  us  good,  He  takes  away  our 
sins.  Christ's  justification  consists  therein,  that  He  makes 
us  justified.  All  moments  in  the  life  of  Christ,  His  temp- 
tation and  His  transfiguration  on  Mount  Tabor,  His  death 
and  his  resurrection,  are  moments  of  this  great  work  of 
atonement,  because  they  all  affect  beneficently  different 
moments  of  our  life. 

I  have  frequently  been  astonished  at  the  innumerable 
different  ways  of  understanding  and  of  explaining  the 
doctrine  of  the  Atonement,  ever  since  the  introduction  of 
Christianity  until  this  day,  and  at  the  great  number  of 
sects,  each  explaining  their  belief  in  a  different  way,  and 
still  all  calling  themselves  Christians,  and  I  have  come  to 

O  * 

the  conviction  that  this  must  be  so.  These  disparities  are  a 
consequence  of  people's  different  intellectual  capacities 
and  different  experiences  in  life.  There  must,  in  conse- 
quence of  Nature's  manifold  creative  powers,  be  found 
turnips  and  apple-trees,  lichens  and  cedars,  in  the  world 
of  mankind,  as  well  as  in  the  world  of  Nature.  If  only 
each  species  tries  to  gain  the  benefit  of  light,  so  that  its 
fruits  can  ripen  and  become  good,  then  also  is  each  species 
good.  But  there  are  plants  and  herbs  of  lower  and  of 
higher  degree ;  and  there  is  also  a  profound  as  well  as  a 
superficial  way  of  explaining  Christianity.  But  Christianity 
has  also  this  resemblance  to  the  sun,  that  the  little  as  well 
as  the  great  drink  life  out  of  it  Nobody  can  sound  the 
depths  of  Christianity  without  having  first  dived  into  the 
depths  of  life  ;  but  even  the  most  superficial  thinker,  the 
most  shallow  natures,  can  from  some  one  of  its  rays  gain 
light  and  strength  enough  for  life.  It  is  the  river  "  through 
which  the  lion  can  swim  and  the  lamb  walk." 


LETTERS.  209 

Pardon  this  rhapsody.  I  shall  be  able  to  write  better 
another  time.  Oh!  that  I  could  clearly  enough  express 
the  truths  which  I  acknowledge  ;  I  am  then  sure  that  your 
heart  and  your  reason  would  find  peace  therein.  Man's 
wants  also  in  this  respect  are  different.  May  each  one 
find  what  he  needs,  and  may  every  body  (for  this  is  the 
most  essential)  follow  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  and  he  will 
then  come  to  His  " eternal  life"  I  have  lately  heard  Mr. 

T 's  and  Agren's  confessions  of  religious  faith.     What 

contrasts  !  and  yet  how  they  agree  as  followers  of  Christ. 
They  shall  therefore  be  left  in  peace  by  me,  although  I 
find  the  former's  views  of  God  and  His  revelation  so  de- 
plorable, and  the  latter's  so  unsatisfactory.  But  may  I  be 
found  worthy  one  day  to  meet  them  in  the  mansion  of  our 
Father. 

AKSTA,  2d  October,  1840. 

Dearest  Frances  !  After  having  read  your  letter,  which 
I  received  last  Wednesday  evening,  I  thought  to  myself, 
now  I  will  at  once  sit  down  to  write,  because  it  would  be  a 
great  shame  if  a  solitary  dweller  in  the  country,  who  has 
nobody  else  to  take  care  of  but  herself;  nothing  to  look  at 
but  fields  and  phlegmatic  oxen  ;  nothing  to  manage  but 
her  goose-quill,  —  I  say  it  would  be  a  great  shame  if  she 
could  not  find  time  to  write  a  pertinent  letter,  when  the 
wife  of  the  chief  of  a  government  office  (a  government 
office  chiefess  ? ),  residing  in  the  capital,  who  has  to  cut 
a  figure  in  the  world ;  give  grand  dinner  and  evening 
parties ;  be  wife  to  her  husband ;  keep  a  watchful  eye  upon 
four  boys ;  upon  the  debates  in  the  House  of  Nobles ; 
upon  erring  fellow-men  ;  and  upon  the  improvement  of 
the  world,  etc.,  etc.,  and  having  all  this  to  attend  to,  still 
can  find  time  to  delight  her  friends  with  her  letters, 

Now,  my  dearest  Frances,  attention  !  I  shall  now  come 
with  a  really  fine  and  polite  Swedish  phrase :  "  How  de- 
lighted I  am  not  to  be  in  your  clothes,"  —  which  means, 
how  pleased  I  am  not  to  have  your  responsibilities  in  the 
14 


210  LETTERS. 

vortex  of  the  world,  because  I  should  find  myself  utterly 
unfit  for  it  and  lost.  But  do  not  think  that  I  pity  you.  No 
such  thing!  I  might  perhaps  say  to  you,  when  you  are 
fatigued  in  body  and  soul :  "  Oh !  how  sorry  I  am  for  you, 
my  dearest  Frances ; "  but  I  do  not  pity  you  on  account  of 
the  life  which  you  are  leading.  It  is  really  so  ordained  in 
this  world,  that  in  every  direction,  and  in  every  position  in 
life,  one  can  improve  one's  self,  and  develop  a  peculiar 
beauty  and  excellence.  And  she  who  lives  in  the  great 
world,  active  in  all  domestic  duties,  gains  thereby  strength, 
assurance,  aplomb,  and  ability,  which  the  solitary  one  never 
attains,  even  if  she  could  get  into  her  head  all  the  books 
which  she  collects  round  her  in  her  silent  and  quiet  little 
home.  She  can  also  develop  herself,  and  work  good  in 
her  own  way  and  in  her  retirement ;  but  she  would  miss 
much  of  what  is  gained  in  a  more  stirring,  outwardly  more 
practical,  life.  It  makes  me  happy  to  feel  how  every  one 
can  go  onwards  in  his  own  path.  All  depends  upon  going 
forward  in  the  right  direction.  The  retired  study  has  its 
dangers,  its  temptations,  as  well  as  the  salons  of  the  great. 
One  can  become  dried  up  in  the  former,  whilst  in  the  lat- 
ter one  evaporates.  All  roads  have  their  by-roads.  It  is 
therefore  necessary  that  we  should  take  with  us  the  proper 
guide.  My  sincerest  thanks  for  your  encouraging  words 
about  my  "  children."  I  wish  only  that  I  could  properly 
execute  what  I  intend  and  ought  to  do.  But  it  is  with 
books  as  with  deeds.  We  know  what  is  right,  but  we  are 
not  able  to  achieve  it.  Frequently,  when  I  have  finished 
some  book,  I  feel  with  anxiety  and  a  kind  of  pain  how 
much  of  it  I  could  have  done  better.  In  order  to  console 
myself,  I  look  forward  to  the  future  and  to  new  works.  I 
wonder  whether  I  shall  be  more  pleased  with  them  ? 

What  you  say  of  our  Swedish  Psalm-book  delights  me. 
Its  compiler  has  well  deserved  Tegner's  eulogy  :  — 

"  The  merits  of  Wallin  sure  we  may  all  discuss,  — 
He  's  yet  a  psalm-book  in  advance  of  us." 


LETTERS.  211 

Do  you  know  the  psalm,  No.  201  :  "  Create  in  me,  O 
God,  a  heart,  which  holy  is  and  good  and  pure  ?  "  It  is 
my  favorite  morning-psalm;  and  the  splendid  invocation, 
No.  131 :  "  Holy  Spirit,  Spirit  of  Truth,"  —  I  know  no 
words  which  flow  more  naturally  from  heart  and  lips  in 
solitary  and  agitated  moments.  Besides,  I  think  that 
psalms  ought  to  be  an  outpouring  of  the  heart,  either 
imploring  or  praising;  but  not  long  self -meditations, 
which  so  many  of  our  psalms  really  are.  For  such,  prose 
is  more  suitable.  Psalms  are  prayer's  efflorescence  ;  and 
prayer  is  the  soul's  flight  upwards  to  bloom  in  heaven. 
Prayer  is  the  conductor  by  which  we  put  ourselves  in  con- 
nection with  eternal  life's  current  of  light,  which  thereby 
being  drawn  to  us,  elevates  and  animates  (electrifies)  us. 
Therefore  prayer  is  of  such  great  importance,  and  so 
strongly  commended  in  our  Christian  religion,  and  without 
it  —  namely,  prayer  in  the  spirit  of  Christianity  —  no 
thorough  improvement  is  possible.  It  is  a  true  and  beau- 
tiful saying  of  one  of  the  fathers  of  the  Church  :  "  Prayer 
will  either  make  us  abandon  sin,  or  sin  will  make  us 
abandon  prayer."  .  .  . 

ABSTA,  12th  January,  1841. 

For  a  long  time  I  have  been  writing  to  you  in  my 
thoughts,  my  dearest  Frances.  When  I  was  last  in  town, 
we  had  never  an  opportunity  of  saying  all  that  we  had  to 
say  to  each  other.  Sometimes  one  is  not  in  the  vein,  and 
then  there  is  no  help  for  it.  I  was  also,  I  know  not  why, 
morally  shut  up.  The  soul  and  the  mind  have  their  winter 
as  well  as  their  spring ;  and  it  is  sad  that  increasing  age 
often  spreads  a  benumbing  snow-covering  over  the  mind. 
In  youth  we  are  often  on  the  point  of  melting  from  mere 
feeling ;  in  old  age  we  are  often  in  danger  of  congealing  to 
ice ;  and  the  last  danger  is  greater  than  the  first.  We 
find  a  remedy  against  it  in  the  gospel,  in  the  sun,  and  in 
good,  noble-minded  people.  Warmed  by  such  spirits  of 


212  LETTERS. 

spring,  we  again  begin  to  thaw.  What  a  delightful  sensa- 
tion it  is  to  thaw  under  silent  tears  of  love,  under  happi- 
ness, or  gentle  sorrow.  It  is  like  the  sweetest  music. 

Why  do  we,  in  all  descriptive  sketches  of  heaven  and  of 
the  realms  of  bliss,  always  find  something  resembling 
music  ?  Because  music  only  can  interpret  the  unspeak- 
ably deep  and  sweet  in  human  feeling,  the  melting  har- 
mony, the  transition  of  the  soul,  or  rather  its  glorifica- 
tion, in  an  element  of  the  purest  love  and  beatitude. 
Surely  you  and  your  husband  will  one  day  sing  the  song 
of  the  blessed  together  in  harmony's  perfect  world. 

When  I  was  last  with  you,  you  did  not  then  sing  in  con- 
cert together ;  each  of  you  had  your  own  part ;  but  they 
were  somewhat  discordant  in  a  question  respecting  anger, 
and  whether  this  feeling  was  blamable  and  ignoble  or  not. 
I  remember  that  we  have  sometimes  spoken  on  this  sub- 
ject ;  and  I  will  now  make  a  fair  copy,  of  which  I  then 
made  a  rough  one. 

I  believe  that  anger,  like  any  other  affection  or  impulse 
of  the  soul,  has  its  truth  and  its  good.  It  is  the  violent 
protest  of  the  sense  of  right  and  justice  against  what  is 
wrong  and  unworthy.  Such  is  anger  in  its  purity  —  in 
God.  In  its  impurity  it  is  a  violent  outbreak  of  the  mind 
against  every  thing  which  wounds  its  opinions  and  will,  be 
this  what  it  may.  And  when  you,  my  dearest  Frances, 
said,  "  I  do  not  think  that  I  am  sinning  when  I  get  angry," 
I  side  with  you,  provided  your  anger  is  just,  —  that  is  to 
say,  directed  against  what  is  wicked  and  bad.  But  when 
your  husband  says  :  "We  never  act  so  prudently  when  we 
are  angry,  as  when  we  are  calm  and  collected  ;  we  are 
generally  carried  away  from  what  is  reasonable,  and  let,  in 
our  passion,  the  guiltless  suffer  with  the  guilty ; "  then  I 
place  myself  beside  him,  humbly  giving  him  right ;  and 
thereupon  I  place  myself  between  you  two,  and  wish  to 
decide  the  question  thus  :  — 

There  is  a   noble   and   an  ignoble  anger.     There   are 


LETTERS.  213 

moments  and  situations  in  life  when  one  requires  a  burst 
of  anger,  to  be  able  to  grapple  powerfully  and  lend  justice 
a  strong  helping-hand.  But  such  moments  come  seldom  ; 
and  the  danger  of  falling,  in  the  annoyances  and  little 
vexations  of  every-duy  life,  from  a  noble  into  an  ignoble 
anger,  is  so  great,  that  we  ought  to  do  all  we  can  to  govern 
and  conquer,  this  emotion  and  its  eruptions.  When  our 
Saviour,  in  noble  wrath,  thundered  his  anathema  against 
the  hypocritical  Pharisees,  He  knew  what  He  did.  But  we, 
weak,  narrow-minded  beings,  often  know  not  what  we  are 
doing  when  our  feelings  are  agitated.  A  noble,  high- 
minded  character  ought,  therefore,  not  to  quell  any  of  the 
feelings  which  the  Creator  has  interwoven  with  his  nature ; 
but  he  ought  so  to  rule  and  direct  them,  that,  like  the 
waves  in  a  river,  they  fertilize  its  banks  without  inundating 
them. 

And  now  to  something  more  trivial.  "Whilst  you,  Fran- 
ces, are  waging  a  war  here  and  there  in  the  world,  we  spin 
out  life  here  in  quiet  and  peace.  I  begin  now  firmly  to 
believe  that,  for  Agatha's  sake,  we  could  not  have  come  to 
a  better  determination  than  to  remain  at  Arsta  over  the 
winter.  I  did  not  believe  this  last  autumn ;  but  in  all 
transitions  from  one  condition  to  another,  there  arises  usu- 
ally some  suspense,  something  wavering  ;  in  a  word,  some- 
thing uncomfortable.  So  it  is  in  the  autumn,  within  as  well 
as  out  of  doors,  when  we  have  to  pass  from  summer  into 
winter.  When  we  are  tacking,  the  sails  hang  shivering 
uneasily  until  they  are  again  caught  and  swelled  out  by  the 
wind.  Thus  it  was  with  us  last  autumn.  We  have  now 
tacked  about ;  our  sails  are  again  caught  and  filled,  if  not 
by  a  strong,  at  all  events  by  a  steady  and  gentle  breeze. 
We  are  bounding  along,  and  ever  and  anon  we  call  out, 
"  All 's  well !  "  During  day-time  I  am  left  much  alone  ; 
but  in  the  evenings  I  read  aloud  to  our  mother  and  Aga- 
tha, until  we  take  our  little  "  tea-supper,"  and  soon  after 
bid  one  another  good-night.  Agatha  and  I  then  chat 


214  LETTERS. 

together  until,  very  quietly,  we  fall  asleep.  It  is  a  great 
pleasure  to  me  to  converse  with  Agatha,  about  any  thing. 
"  Vivent  les  gens  d'esprit !  "  It  is  refreshing  to  live  with 
somebody  who  can  understand  every  thing,  and  who  is 
always  ready  prepared  with  sense  and  wit,  especially  when 
this  is  joined  to  real  goodness.  With  the  truly  good  and 
the  truly  sensible  we  inhale  fresh  air,  and  if  even  now  and 
then  we  should  come  upon  small  stumbling-blocks,  we  do 
not  run  against  or  stick  fast  upon  them. 

You  are  on  a  sailing-excursion  very  unlike  ours  (Heaven 
knows  how  I  have  managed  to  get  out  to  sea,  from  whence 
it  seems  as  if  I  could  not  come  back).  Yours  is  more  ex- 
citing, but  also  more  unquiet.  Your  four  boys  occasion 
many  contrary  winds,  and  you  sail  amongst  reefs  and 
sunken  rocks.  But  while  love  and  good  sense  are  at  the 
helm,  you  have  a  prosperous  voyage,  and  I  am  sure  that 
after  a  heavy  day,  you  exclaim  in  the  silent  hours  of  night, 
gratefully,  "  All 's  well ! "  and  then  I  would  join  with  you 
in  a  "  Thank  God ! "  for  it  is  His  spirit  in  the  heart  of 
man  which  leads  them  victoriously  through  dangers  and 
difficulties. 

But  I  must  now  make  for  port  with  my  epistle.  I  em- 
brace you  in  thought  and  beg  you  to  remember  me  kindly 
to  your  husband. 

ABSTA,  13th  July,  1841. 

"You  say,  my  dearest  Frances,  that  you  feel  yourself 
getting  older,  and  feel  the  consequences  thereof.  I  also 
have  for  some  years  (and  I  am  a  couple  of  years  older 
than  you  are)  distinctly  felt  within  me  this  transition  to  an 
advanced  season  in  life.  I  have  welcomed  and  blessed  it. 
It  does  me  so  much  good  to  feel  the  cooling  evening  breeze 
fan  my  temples  and  my  heart ;  to  feel  how  it  gains  more 
and  more  peace  and  calmness,  and  I  thus  look  at  life  with 
a  clearer  eye.  This  autumn  of  life  is  dear  to  me.  Its  sun 
is  less  scorching  and  often  brighter  than  summer's  sun, 


LETTERS.  215 

which  is  sometimes  dimmed  by  hot  exhalations.  If  friends 
have  departed  this  world,  they  have  taken  our  heart  with 
them  to  a  better  home ;  if  many  an  enjoyment  has  with- 
ered away,  other  and  new  enjoyments  have  come  in  their 
stead,  and  many,  many  sufferings  have  ceased.  Thus  at 
all  events  have  I  found  it.  Yes,  the  autumn  of  life  can  be 
a  genial,  a  rich  age  ;  one  must  only  guard  against  frost.. 
That  is  the  danger  in  this  season,  and  earth's  best  flower  — 
our  heart  —  is  then  in  as  great  a  danger  of  being  frost- 
bitten as  are  earth's  more  humble  and  more  material  chil- 
dren. But  for  a  mother  and  happy  wife  this  danger  is  not 
very  great.  Round  her  beat  hearts  in  loving  unison  with 
her's,  and  her's  cannot  then  be  chilled.  Greater  is  the 
danger  to  her  who  stands  comparatively  alone.  The  only 
remedy  is  love.  And  this  feeling  can  inspire  every  heart 
which  longs  for  it,  because  a  heart  forever  warm  beats  in 
the  centre  of  the  universe,  with  which  we  all  can  have 
communion. 

ARSTA,  28th  September,  1841. 

Oh  !  if  my  dream  should  be  realized,  my  dearest  Fran- 
ces, your  little  boy  would  then  be  in  a  fair  way  of  recov- 
ery. I  dreamt  that  he  upset  me  in  one  of  his  lively  gam- 
bols. I  long  so  much  to  hear  how  he  is,  and  I  hope  the 
best  for  your  and  your  husband's  sake,  for  otherwise  I  do 
not  grieve  when  people  are  dying.  I  have  always  looked 
upon  the  coming  of  death  as  a  deliverance  from  one  evil 
or  another,  so  that  in  my  mind  death  is  deeply  connected 
with  my  idea  of  something  desirable  and  tranquilizing.  I 
know,  however,  that  it  is  not  always  so,  and  I  have  to-day 
had  an  instance  of  its  bitterness.  A  young  woman  here 
has  lost  her  husband,  with  whom  she  lived  most  happily. 
It  was  very  touching  to  hear  her  subdued  and  deep  wail- 
ing :  "  Alas !  that  he  should  go  away  from  me  in  my 
youth  !  Many  bitter  tears  do  I  weep  every  night,  when 
the  others  "  (the  wives  of  the  other  laborers  on  the  estate) 
"  meet  their  husbands  coming  home ;  but  no  husband 


216  LETTERS. 

comes  to  me.  And  how  happy  we  were  when  he  came 
home  in  the  evening  from  his  work  !  He  was  the  best  of 
husbands  ;  we  lived  so  happily  together.  Indeed,  it  could 
happen,  as  it  does  sometimes  happen  between  husband  and 
wife,  that  we  did  not  quite  agree,  and  sometimes  he  would 
take  a  glass  of  brandy  ;  but  —  never  was  I  afraid  when  he 
opened  the  door  ! "  This  last  sentence  touched  my  heart. 
I  found  it  so  characteristic  of  the  relation  in  married  life, 
and  I  remembered  what  you  told  me,  and  what  you  feel 
when  you  hear  your  husband's  steps  at  your  threshold,  and 
how  I  have  seen  less  happy  wives  turn  pale  and  look  fright- 
ened, when  they  have  heard  their  husband's  footfall  near 
the  door,  and  heard  their  hand  touch  the  handle  of  the 
lock.  I  wept  with  the  poor  bereaved  one,  whose  door  will 
not  again  be  opened  by  the  loved  one's  hand  ;  whose 
threshold  will  not  again  be  touched  by  the  foot  of  him 
who  was  the  light  of  her  heart  and  the  prop  and  stay  of 
her  life.  And  then  the  three  little  children,  who  always 
asked  when  their  u  daddy  "  is  coming  home  again  ! 

But  the  same  woman,  who  so  deeply  bewailed  her  hus- 
band, had  but  a  moderate  love  for  her  children.  Once  last 
summer  she  declared  openly  her  conviction  that  her  young- 
est boy  —  a  fine  little  fellow  —  had  brought  misfortune 
over  her,  "  because  when  he  was  born,  her  pig  died."  I 
moralized  her  a  little  for  seeing  things  in  this  light,  and 
told  her  that  she  ought  to  look  upon  the  boy  as  a  compen- 
sation for  the  pig  ;  but  I  doubt  much  that  I  succeeded  in 
altering  her  view  of  the  case. 

ABSTA,  4th,  October,  1841. 

I  have  heard  through  F ,  my  dearest  Frances,  that 

God  has  taken  away  your  little  boy,  and  I  hasten  to  town 
to-morrow,  to  be  with  you  and  your  husband,  and  to  tell 
you  what  I  feel  for  you  in  my  heart.  Alas  !  there  is  only 
one  word  of  comfort ;  as  for  every  thing  sorrowful  in  this 
world  there  is  only  one  great  consolation  —  the  conviction 


LETTERS.  217 

that  over  us  all,  and  for  us  all,  rules  a  good  and  loving 
Father,  almighty  and  all-good.     With  Him  is  your   son, 
and  there  you  shall  one  day  see  him  again. 
To-morrow  I  shall  be  with  you. 

1841. 

Dearest  Frances  !  It  made  me  very  unhappy  on  read- 
ing your  letter,  to  find  you  grieving  so  painfully.  You  do 
not  feel  in  these  hours  of  anguish  and  bitterness  the  secret 
blessing  which  invisibly  rests  upon  you,  like  a  Father's 
loving  hand  placed  upon  your  down  bent  head ;  but  in 
your  calmer  moments  you  must  see  it.  Your  own  words 
bear  witness  to  the  holy  power  of  the  hours  of  suffering. 
Let  me  quote  them  out  of  your  last  agitated  letter :  "  My 
dearest  occupation  now  is  to  read  about  religious  subjects, 
and  to  contemplate  the  same.  They  so  absorb  my  thoughts 
that,  for  the  moment,  I  forget  my  grief  at  the  loss  of  our 
boy,  in  the  happiness  which  I  feel  in  trying  to  look  up  to 
him." 

This  and  your  hopeful  words  of  belief  and  trust,  do 
they  not  tell  your  soul  that  which  must  assuage  its  grief; 
•which  must  let  you  see  that  you  are  under  the  guidance  of 
a  higher  power,  under  the  care  of  an  earnest  but  loving 
Father.  Alas  !  it  must  be  so  for  you,  for  me,  for  all  of  us, 
that  when  the  bitter  cup  is  held  to  our  lips,  we  must  drain 
it,  even  with  tears  —  drain  it  submissively,  and  must  say 
in  our  deepest  anguish :  "  Father !  if  it  is  not  possible 
that  this  cup  be  removed  from  me,  without  I  drink  it,  Thy 
will  be  done  !  "  While  I  am  writing  this,  my  tears  are 
flowing  and  make  my  words  dim.  I  remember  only  too 
well,  how  in  my  hours  of  temptation,  I  could  not  say  these 
words,  on  account  of  the  bitterness  of  my  rebellious  heart. 
Now,  I  think,  I  could  do  it.  1  know  that  when  the  victory 
has  been  gained,  come  the  angels  —  heavenly  messengers, 
heavenly  powers  —  to  administer  to  man  ;  and  I  know  well 
from  my  own  experience  the  developing  and  beneficial 
power  of  suffering.  I  know  that  "  much  bread  is  growing 


218  LETTERS. 

in  the  winter's  night,"  and  one  day  also  you  will  verify 
this. 

15th  October,  1841. 

I  do  not  know  whether,  at  this  moment,  you  are  inclined 
for  any  deeper  meditations.  A  suffering  mind  is -often 
more  pained  than  soothed  by  contemplating  abstract  sub- 
jects. But  I  will  lay  before  you  only  one  reflection,  which 
I  think  is  full  of  consolation.  You  spoke  last  of  the 
"  natural  religion,"  and  of  your  intention  to  adhere  to  it,  as 
the  true  one.  But  tell  me,  dearest  Frances,  what  comfort 
could  you  derive  from  it  in  the  present  case  ?  What 
answer  could  it  give  you  to  your  questions  about  your  little 
child  ?  Would  it  not  answer :  God  is  great  and  wise. 
He  has  in  his  wisdom  ordained,  that  a  certain  number  of 
individuals  shall  be  born  and  that  a  certain  number  shall 
die  every  year  amongst  the  species  inhabiting  the  earth, 
be  they  sparrows  or  human  beings ;  because  for  the  main- 
tenance and  improvement  of  the  species  the  individuals  of 
each  must  be  sacrificed ;  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole  the 
individual  must  give  way.  God  is  great ! 

Hear  now  revealed  religion  in  the  words  of  Christ :  — 
God  is  great  and  good.  His  eternal  laws  of  order 
govern  the  world  in  the  great  as  in  the  little ;  in  the  gen- 
eral as  in  the  minute.  While  generations  are  continued 
upon  earth,  the  individuals  disappear  from  it,  but  not  from 
the  kingdom  of  God's  love.  "  No  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground 
without  your  Father's  will  and  knowledge.  And  man 
is  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows.  But  the  very  hairs 
of  your  head  are  all  numbered.  Fear  ye  not  therefore 
misery  or  death,  for  God  is  love."  Oh  !  my  dear  Frances, 
is  not  this  a  more  consolatory  doctrine  and  more  worthy 
our  higher  notions  of  God  ?  So  also  is  every  thing  in  re- 
vealed religion,  which  is  the  fulfillment  and  perfection  of 
the  natural  religion. 

7th  November. 

Suffering  and  anguish  have  long  appeared  to  me  as  the 


LETTERS.  219 

dark  genii  of  life.  Not  so  now.  I  have  seen  that  they 
can  be  life's  good  genii.  They  become  so  to  us,  if  with 
deep  and  energetic  confidence,  we  cling  to  the  power,  to 
the  Father,  "  who  smites  and  who  heals,  and  who  out  of 
the  very  wounds  creates  minds  open  to  receive  Him."  I 
shall  never  forget  an  expression,  which  I  heard  more  than 
fifteen  years  ago,  at  a  time  when,  in  consequence  of  my 
own  state  of  mind,  I  sympathized,  with  a  painful  feeling, 
with  every  suffering  in  the  world,  even  with  that  of  the 
innocent  brute  creation.  Of  the  injustice  of  this  latter,  I 
said  something  during  a  conversation  which  I  had  with  a 
man,  who  used  to  converse  with  me  on  the  commonest 
every-day  topics.  I  cannot  describe  the  expression  of  his 
calm,  blue  eye,  and  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  he  an- 
swered :  "  I  should  not  wish  that  any  created  being  should  be 
exempt  from  the  capability  of  suffering."  He  did  not  say 
any  thing  more  on  the  subject,  for  I  did  not  understand 
him.  Since  then  I  have  learnt  to  comprehend  the  mean- 
ing of  these  words  ;  comprehended  it  from  my  own  ex- 
perience, and  am  now  inclined  to  think,  that  suffering  is  a 
prerogative  in  life.  Without  penetrating  into  the  depths 
of  suffering,  into  its  bitter  "  Gethsemane,"  we  cannot  climb 
bright  and  blissful  heights.  He  who  cannot  suffer,  cannot 
enjoy.  But  all  depends  upon,  that  we  should  let  suffer- 
ing purify  and  ennoble  the  soul.  This  cannot  come  in 
question  with  respect  to  the  sufferings  of  animals,  but  their 
suffering  is  distantly  connected  with  a  final  atonement, 
concerning  which  I  cannot  now  unfold  my  ideas.  I  will 
merely  add,  that  according  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  it 
is  through  hope,  and  not  through  despair,  that  suffering 
works  upon  man. 

If  only  I  could  be  tranquil  in  my  mind  with  respect  to 
our  mother  and  Agatha  in  Nizza,  I  could  be  so  happy  here 
in  my  solitude.  It  has  always  a  beneficial,  as  well  as  an 
exalting  effect  upon  me.  When  I  cannot  communicate 
with  any  body,  I  seem  to  expand,  like  a  balloon,  with 
thoughts  and  feeling,  and  life  appears  then  so  full. 


220  LETTERS. 

1841. 

Thank  God !  my  dear  Frances,  that  we  shall  one  day 
get  rid  of  this  material  body.  I  think  that  is  a  glorious 
thing ;  for  I  feel  often  deeply  the  truth  of  what  is  written 
in  the  Book  of  wisdom  :  "  The  mortal  body  burdens  the 
soul,  and  the  earthly  body  makes  heavy  the  mind  ; "  and 
I  feel  that  we  shall  be  able  to  love  more  warmly  and  to 
think  better,  when  we  are  set  free  from  the  chrysalis,  which 
again  and  again  throws  its  folds  round  the  spirit  longing 
for  liberty.  I  feel  it  also  now,  when  a  lingering  cloud  of 
migraine  in  my  head  presses  down  my  thoughts  and  words, 
which  fain  would  reach  you,  and  infolds  the  mind  so  that  it 
feels  itself  fettered.  Ah  !  it  will  be  indeed  delightful  one 
day  to  get  rid  of  this  heavy  and  infirm  load.  A  body 
(form,  organs,)  we  shall  get,  for  it  is  the  antitype  and  in- 
dispensable expression  of  the  soul.  The  resurrection  of 
Christ,  is  the  real  manifestation  hereof.  St.  Paul  explains 
this  in  his  splendid  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  (1  Cor.  xv. 
35-57)  wherein  he  says :  "  It  is  sown  a  natural  body ; 
it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body."  .  .  .  "  It  is  sown  in  dishonor  ; 
it  is  raised  in  glory,"  etc.,  etc.  Raised  in  glory,  in  power! 
Yes,  but  on  condition  that  we,  here  in  mortality,  develop 
the  life,  which  beyond  the  grave  shall  be  thus  raised  also 
in  outward  glory.  Is  there  on  earth  a  nourishment,  a  food 
which  can  strengthen  and  develop  man  to  become  heav- 
enly, to  become  a  citizen  in  the  kingdom  of  glory?  Is 
there  on  earth  a  heavenly  bread,  a  heavenly  wine  ?  You 
long  to  reach  heaven.  Look  up  to  the  symbol  thereof, 
which  arches  itself  over  our  heads.  Does  not  all  light 
come  from  thence  ?  Light,  the  cheerful,  the  warm,  the 
vivifying,  which  gives  to  all  beings,  to  all  conditions  de- 
velopment and  beauty;  in  which  all  attain  their  glorifica- 
tion, and  which,  reflected  in  millions  of  rays,  gives  itself  to 
all  beings,  gives  to  all  a  part  of  its  life.  Thus  there  is  in 
every  thing  from  which  our  soul  derives  nourishment,  a 
secret,  divine  power,  a  heavenly  bread  and  wine  given 


LETTERS.  221 

to  us  for  the  development  and  glorification  of  our  being, 
It  is  found  in  the  life  of  love ;  in  the  work  of  scientific  re- 
search ;  in  the  beauty  of  art ;  in  the  splendor  of  Nature ; 
it  is  found  in  joy,  in  sorrow,  in  suffering,  in  every  thing  ; 
aye,  even  in  the  bustle  of  every  one's  business ;  in  the  food 
which  we  enjoy  corporeally.  But  we  must  understand 
this ;  we  must  understand  the  heavenly,  which  is  hidden 
in  the  earthly  ;  we  must  in  us  receive  the  eternal,  which 
lives  and  develops  itself  in  finite  (transitive)  temporal  cir- 
cumstances. Only  in  this  way  do  we  prepare  our  real  trans- 
formation, and  make,  already  here,  the  wings  grow,  which 
shall  be  made  perfect  when  the  earthly  shell  breaks. 

"I  am  the  living  bread,  which  came  down  from  heaven," 
says  Jesus ;  and  He  says  further :  "  Except  ye  eat  the  flesh 
of  the  son  of  man,  and  drink  his  blood,  ye  have  no  life  in 
you ; "  and  again,  in  the  same  chapter  (St.  John  vi.  63,) 
"  It  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth  ;  the  flesh  profiteth  noth- 
ing ;  the  words  which  I  speak  unto  you,  they  are  spirit,  and 
they  are  life."  And  at  the  last  supper  He  says  :  "  Take, 
eat,  this  is  my  body ;  drink,  for  this  is  my  blood,"  etc.,  etc. 
Deep  is  this  doctrine,  but  any  thing  but  dark  and  mystical. 
Here  Christ  says :  "  I  am  the  life  of  the  world  ;  for  I  am 
in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  me  ;  we  two  are  one." 
"  Even  as  I  gave  myself  for  you,  so  will  God  give  himself 
to  you  in  eternity "  (for  Christ  is  the  manifestation  upon 
earth  of  what  God  is  in  eternity).  "As  I  call  you  to  com- 
munion with  me,  so  does  God  call  you  in  eternity  to  that 
heavenly  feast,  to  impart  to  you  His  life,  for  your  soul's 
and  your  body's  glorification.  Abide  in  me ;  feed  upon 
my  life  (blood),  upon  my  body  (doctrine),  then  shall  you 
also  live  through  me,  and  all  that  you  shall  do  and  work, 
shall  be  to  your  own  gain  ;  for  a  sanctified  soul  will  in  all 
things  seek  for  sanctifying  food.  Be  one  with  me,  that  I 
may  dwell  in  you,  so  that  at  the  resurrection  you  may  be 
like  unto  me,  for  because  I  live,  ye  shall  also  live,  and  be 
with  me  where  I  am." 


222  LETTERS. 

In  a  word :  in  the  last  supper  is  pronounced  the  pro- 
found doctrine  of  God's  relation  to  mankind  (He  feeds  us 
with  His  life  and  communicates  it  to  us),  and  the  doctrine 
of  affinity  between  the  spiritual  and  the  corporeal  teaches 
us  "  such  as  the  spirit  is,  so  shall  the  body  be  also  ;  the 
outward  as  the  inward." 

Oh  !  Frances,  how  feebly  does  not  my  tongue  stammer 
forth  the  profundity  of  eternal  wisdom.  Yes,  I  know  it  is 
only  in  part ;  but  in  these  parts  of  an  inexpressible  whole, 
in  these  single  letters  of  the  eternal  word,  the  soul  finds 
light  and  joy.  So  has  mine  done  ;  therefore  it  unfolds 
itself  to  yours. 

Only  one  word  more  on  this  subject.  The  world  is  full 
of  weak  and  also  of  bad  food,  in  a  spiritual  point  of  view. 
We  should  deteriorate  and  go  to  ruin  by  it,  if  we  were  not 
strengthened  and  elevated  by  a  heavenly  (eternal)  bread  — 
food,  and  wine  —  drink.  This  goes  forth  concretely  in 
the  holy  communion.  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  atone- 
ment, expressed  in  deed ;  the  heavenly  synthesis,  in  which 
all  life's  antitheses  are  annulled  (as  such)  and  united  and 
reconciled  in  a  higher  oneness. 

As  regards  the  sufferings  of  your  little  children,  as  an 
atonement,  I  can  only  say,  that  the  suffering  which  can 
have  a  saving  quality  or  one  reconciling  with  God,  must  be 
a  suffering  which  develops  something  good  within  us,  and 
which  thereby  can  make  us  active  for  others.  But  your 
departed  children  work  beneficially  for  you,  I  can  clearly 
see,  from  the  direction  which  your  mind  has  taken  towards 
the  invisible  home,  to  which  God  has  called  them.  But 
whether  their  suffering  (I  mean  from  their  disease,  for  any 
other  suffering  these  little,  happy  children  could  not  know) 
has  contributed  to  this,  I  do  not  know.  If  we  can  assume 
that  this  suffering  has  had  a  developing  effect  upon  their  in- 
nocent souls  (and  this  may  be  probable),  they  have  thereby 
attained  to  a  higher  capacity.  Not  your  sins,  but  the  sins 
and  the  fallen  state  of  all  mankind,  acted  upon  them,  and 


LETTERS.  223 

acts  upon  every  individual  member  thereof  who  is  born  in 
this  world.  He  partakes  of  the  evil  in  the  world,  but 
through  the  virtues  and  truth  of  mankind  —  and  yours 
also  —  he  also  partakes  of  its  good  ;  and  in  proportion  as 
he  develops  himself  in  the  latter,  he  becomes,  in  his  way, 
a  saviour  of  his  race  from  the  former ;  for  no  human  being 
stands  isolated.  What  he  develops  within  him  of  good  or 
bad,  works  far  and  wide,  although  often  invisibly. 

I  know  so  well  from  my  own  experience  how  difficult  it 
is  to  understand  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement,  notwith- 
standing its  clearness  and  simplicity  if  it  is  rightly  ex- 
plained ;  and  the  reason  is,  that  ever  since  our  childhood 
it  has  been  so  distorted  to  our  understanding.  But  grad- 
ually we  seize  upon  certain  main  points,  and  by  these  the 
others  are  by  degrees  lighted  up. 

I  am  writing  this  with  a  continually  increasing  headache ; 
but  I  do  not  mention  it  for  the  sake  of  complaining,  but  in 
order  that  you  may  excuse,  in  case  the  cloud  in  my  head 
should  have  thrown  some  darkness  over  the  paper. 

ARSTA,  21st  December,  1841. 

Dearest  Frances !  Not  being  able  to  come  to  you  per- 
sonally during  the  approaching  Christmas  holidays,  I  shall 
pay  you  a  visit  in  spirit.  I  know  that  during  these  days 
a  sorrowful  memory  is  awakened  in  your  heart,  and 
I  should  much  wish  —  not  to  chase  it  away;  no,  no; 
such  memories  are  sacred  guests, —  but  to  contribute 
to  make  it  calm  and  bright.  Let  me  now  converse  with 
you  a  short  while.  If  I  speak  badly,  you  need  not  listen 
to  me ;  if  I  speak  well,  then  —  why  —  then  it  is  well. 

It  is  a  general  national  belief  that  children,  who  are 
taken  from  us  at  a  tender  age,  are  happy,  because  they  are 
saved  from  all  life's  dangers  and  sufferings,  and  are  playing 
as  innocent  angels  in  light  and  bliss  round  the  throne  of 
the  Almighty.  One  may  consider  this  belief  as  having  a 
reasonable  foundation  or  not ;  still  it  is  in  itself  a  beautiful, 


224  LETTERS. 

innocent  angel  beside  the  death-bed  of  little  children,  giv- 
ing peace  to  many  a  mother's  and  father's  bleeding  heart. 
It  is  always  interesting  to  hear  the  ideas  of  distinguished 
persons  on  this  subject,  and  I  have  read  some  of  these  dur- 
ing the  last  days.  You  have,  no  doubt,  heard  something 
of  a  celebrated  Swedish  scholar,  the  visionary  Swedenborg. 
He  is  still  a  problem  and  a  marvel  to  our  philosophers ; 
many  have  endeavored  to  explain  his  visions,  but  have 
finished  by  declaring  them  to  be  —  inexplicable.  All, 
however,  agree  that  Swedenborg  was  a  man  of  almost  gi- 
gantic learning,  and  his  life  and  character  of  the  highest 
moral  beiuity.  His  visions  and  his  intercourse  with  spirits 
did  not  disturb  the  equanimity  of  his  soul,  and  he  reached 
a  very  advanced  age  in  the  happiest  and  most  amiable 
frame  of  mind.  What  I  have  read  of  his  visions  and  reve- 
lations from  the  world  of  spirits,  has  not  struck  me  as 
being  more  profound  revelations,  but  often  as  very  ingenious 
intuitions,  although  absurd  and  extravagant.  But  in  gen- 
eral his  doctrine  distinguishes  itself  by  its  moral  nobleness 
and  beauty.  Nobody  speaks  more  beautifully  than  Swe- 
denborg of,  for  instance,  conjugal  love,  and  his  visions 
concerning  the  state  of  married  couples  in  another  world 
are  indeed  heavenly.  He  speaks  of  these  visions  and  reve- 
lations with  remarkable  simplicity.  He  never  proves  any 
thing ;  he  merely  says,  "  I  saw  it ; "  or,  "  it  is  so  and  so." 
With  respect  to  the  state  of  children  after  death,  he  has 
such  a  beautiful  idea,  or,  as  he  considers  it,  revelation,  that 
I  believe  your  maternal  eye  would  rest  upon  it  with  de- 
light. I  shall  begin  by  quoting  his  words  relating  to  the 
parents :  — 

"  When  the  husband  has  been  taught  by  the  wife  to  experience 
love  for  the  children,  he  shares  with  her  this  kind  of  love,  which, 
in  the  strength  of  its  disinterestedness  and  its  sacrifices,  in  which 
it  finds  the  greatest  enjoyment,  is,  of  all  human  love,  nearest  the 
divine  love.  We  see  hereby  clearly  how  great  and  beneficial 
must  be  the  influences  of  the  love  for  children  in  parents,  who  in- 


LETTERS.  225 

deed  are  life  of  each  other's  life,  or  have  '  become  one  fhsh'  in 
the  full  and  sacred  sense  of  the  word.  And  it  requires  no  ex- 
planation to  show  what  a  delight  it  is  to  them,  when  they  are  per- 
mitted to  keep  their  children  with  them  alive,  until,  surrounded 
by  them,  they  close  their  own  eyes  forever.  But  even  that  is  a 
blessing,  to  have,  as  one  expresses  it,  lost  children  by  death  in 
their  tender  age.  For  these,  who  in  heaven  are  educated  by 
angels  especially  appointed  for  that  purpose,  until  they  themselves 
have  become  qualified  to  be  such  angels,  continue  to  be  connected 
•with  their  parents  remaining  on  earth,  by  love's  immortal,  sym- 
pathetic ties.  These  ties  are  the  root  of  their  being,  and  hence 
it  follows  that  these  ties,  by  the  development  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  these  children,  themselves  become  developed  into  a  con- 
stantly hipher  love  ;  and  this  makes  that  from  the  third  or  highest 
heaven,  which  is  the  heaven  of  innocence  and  of  children,  they 
constantly  visit  the  parents  through  soothing  and  purifying  influ- 
ences. 

"  All  children  who,  in  their  tenderest  age,  are  taken  away  from 
earth,  are  in  the  beginning  brought  up  in  that  circle  of  heaven 
which  has  been  mentioned  first.  For  this  purpose  female  angels 
are  employed  whose  distinguishing  characteristic  during  their 
mortal  life  has  been  sincere  piety,  and  great  love  of  children. 
Thereafter  their  education  is  continued  by  male  angels  in  that 
branch  of  celestial  knowledge  and  wisdom  to  which  their  disposi- 
tion directs  them.  During  this  latter  education,  or  while  growing 
up,  they  are  removed  to  other  celestial  spheres.  It  then  de- 
pends upon  themselves  whether  they  can  again  be  received  into 
the  third  celestial  sphere.  Fully  grown  up  and  educated  are 
they,  when  the  innocence  of  childhood  in  them  is  transformed 
into  the  innocence  of  wisdom;  for  just  thereby,  but  not  before, 
are  they  real  angels.  In  general,  this  transformation  is  the 
common  fundamental  condition  of  all  heavenly  life,  although 
different  grades  are  possible.  It  is  this  fundamental  condition 
which  is  expressed  in  the  words  of  our  Saviour :  '  Whosoever 
shall  not  receive  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child,  shall  in  no 
wise  enter  therein.'  When  full  grown,  and  when  their  education 
has  been  finished,  those  who  have  thus  been  prepared  for  a  celes- 
tial social  life,  receive  those  angel-spouses  which  from  eternity 
have  been  destined  for  them.  But  in  form  and  features  they 
remain  forever  youth  and  maiden. 
15 


226  LETTERS. 

"  The  more  thousands  of  years  the  angels  live,  the  more  beau- 
tifully and  blissfully  do  they  bloom ;  and  so  in  all  eternity.  To 
grow  old  in  heaven,  is  to  grow  younger." 

So  says  Swedenborg,  and  while  he  has  been  speaking, 
evening  has  come  on,  and  it  is  now  too  late  for  me  to  write 

O  * 

more.  Swedenborg  was  a  most  devout  Christian,  who  wor- 
shiped God  in  Christ.  One  may  share  his  intuitions  or 
not,  in  part  or  in  the  whole  ;  yet,  in  the  most  important 
and  essential,  one  cannot  but  devoutly  side  with  him, 
namely :  that  if  in  Christ  we  see  the  revelation  of  God's 
heart,  being,  and  will,  we  can  then  confidently  and  joyously 
leave  ourselves  and  our  beloved  ones  in  His  hands,  certain 
that  He  will  order  every  thing  with  endless  love  to  the 
best. 

And  now  I  kiss  you  and  say,  farewell  and  be  happy  ! 

ABITA,  3d  October,  1842. 

It  is  one  of  the  tenets  of  my  good,  dear  friend,  the 

Countess    S .  that   when  we   do   not  hear  any  thing 

from  our  friends,  we  may  be  sure  that  they  are  perfectly 
well  and  lead  a  merry  life  ;  and  I  hope,  my  dear  Frances, 
that  this  holds  good  with  respect  to  you,  our  dear  friends, 
during  the  long  silence  between  you  and  us  Arsta  people. 
As  to  ourselves,  we  have  not  had  quite  such  pleasant  cause 
for  our  silence.  We  have  already  for  some  time  had  a 
visitor  in  the  house,  called  Illness,  and  his  conduct  has  been 
any  thing  but  pleasant  or  agreeable  to  witness.  But  now, 
thank  God  !  he  is  preparing  to  leave  us,  together  with  all 
his  odious  train,  and  Health  is  returning  with  her  compan- 
ions, appetite,  happy  faces,  and  joyous  hearts.  Charlotte 
is  still  confined  to  her  bed,  but  the  fountain  of  laughter 
which  is  in  her  is  again  beginning  to  burst  forth,  murmur- 
ing duets  with  Agatha's,  which  is  constantly  flowing.  Our 
mother  likes  this,  and  is  always  ready  to  accompany  them. 
I,  who  am  less  inclined  for  this  merriment,  must,  however, 
"follow  my  leaders,"  —  it  cannot  be  helped.  It  would  be 


LETTERS.  227 

difficult  to  find  any  place  where,  while  health  predominates, 
there  is  so  much  laughter  as  here.  At  what  ?  —  it  would 
be  difficult  to  tell :  at  childishness,  at  nonsense,  —  in  fact, 
at  nothing.  Such  merriment  belongs  to  the  family  myste- 
ries, and  by  no  means  to  the  worst  amongst  them.  It  often 
springs  out  of  a  number  of  trifling  peculiarities  of  the 
family  members,  which,  perhaps,  would  have  become  rude 
and  harsh,  unless  they  had  in  time  been  partly  trimmed  and 
polished  by  love,  and  partly  been  softened  by  good  temper. 
You  and  your  countrymen  understand  this  better  than  oth- 
ers. Therein  lies,  I  believe,  the  source  of  what  you  call 
"  humor,"  of  which  they  have  so  much. 

I  am  now  making  the  acquaintance  of  the  ancient  Finn- 
ish national  poesy,  and  I  am  very  much  struck  by  its 
originality  and  life.  But  I  am  not  so  enchanted  now,  after 
studying  the  same,  as  I  was  in  the  anticipation.  It  is  a 
savage  beauty,  like  that  of  our  old,  grand  pine-forests,  with 
their  gloomy  recesses,  their  fresh,  wonderfully  pleasant  fra- 
grance ;  their  wild,  mysterious  rustling ;  but  which  do  not 
afford  any  food  for  our  imagination  and  our  feeling.  It  is 
a  magical  life  of  Nature,  full  of  witchcraft,  and  full  of  strife 
between  the  energetic,  prudent  spirit  of  man  and  Nature's 
fierce  powers,  which  are  conquered  and  bound  by  the  for- 
mer, by  means  of  "  elementary  spells  "  and  the  power  of 
music.  This  latter  has  frequently  great  natural  beauty, 
but  we  miss  all  moral  life  and  a  higher  flight.  The  soul, 
after  wandering  about  in  these  regions,  longs  as  much  for 
more  solid  food  as  the  body  after  a  long,  fatiguing  walk 
through  heath  and  forest. 

There  is  a  Finnish  proverb,  which  speaks  to  my  soul 
with  indescribable  grace  :  — 

"  Listen  to  the  fir-tree's  rustling, 
At  whose  root  thy  nest  is  made." 

These  words  are  full  of  deep  meaning  ;  they  awaken  in 
me  refreshing  and  delicious  thoughts. 

Simultaneously  with  this  study,  I  am  busy  with  another 


228  LETTERS. 

one  of  a  very  different  description,  which  ought  to  afford 
the  soul  that  food  which  is  denied  to  it  in  the  Finnish  na- 
tional poem  "  Kalevala."  It  is  Lord  Brougham's  "  Emi- 
nent Statesmen."  I  wonder  whether  it  is  a  deficiency  in 
me  that  I  find  these  delineations  below  my  expectation  ? 
I  longed  to  see  characters,  distinguished  men,  and  I  see 
before  me  only  —  orators.  Lord  Brougham  appears  to  me 
to  be  so  preoccupied  by  the  speeches  of  his  statesmen,  and 
their  talents  in  that  line,  that  he  almost  overlooks  their 
actions  as  moral  people ;  or,  at  any  rate,  looks  upon  that 
character  as  a  secondary  consideration,  alluding  to  it  only 
in  passing.  Lord  North  is  the  personage  amongst  them 
which  I  imagine  that  I  know  and  see ;  not  from  Lord 
Brougham's  biography,  but  from  his  daughter's,  Lady 
Lindsay,  because  she  seizes  just  upon  those  moments  in 
which  the  character  stands  out  naturally  and  completely. 
In  order  to  be  able  to  know  man,  one  must  see  him  in  the 
hours  of  success  and  of  adversity ;  one  must  see  him  love  ; 
see  his  angry  passions  roused ;  see  him  suffer,  and  see  him 
—  die.  I  longed  to  have  seen  in  Lord  Brougham's  work 
man  stand  forth  out  of  the  moral  elementary  life  (out  of 
which  the  majority  of  mankind  scarcely  ever  steps  forth), 
and  reveal  himself  in  a  form  energetic  in  good  or  in  evil, 
in  life  and  in  death.  But  I  did  not  find  there  what  I 
looked  for.  Lord  Brougham's  moral  feeling,  so  it  seems 
to  me,  is  of  English  nature :  pure,  and  noble,  and  strong. 
But  I  miss  "  la  scentilla  celesta  "  in  his  expressions  either 
of  blame  or  of  praise ;  I  miss  vigor  in  spirit  and  in  words. 
Well,  there  you  have  quite  unexpectedly  got  a  whole 
criticism.  Tell  me,  my  dearest  Frances,  whether  it  is  just 
or  unjust. 

AESTA,  1842. 

My  dear,  sweet  Frances !  I  went  through  your  letter 
from  beginning  to  end,  only  stumbling  over,  or  stopping 
at,  a  few  words,  of  which  some  still  figure  as  stones  and 
stumps  on  my  road;  but  they  do  not  now  impede  me; 


LETTERS.  229 

for  when  I  walk  round  them  my  path  lies  before  me, 
quite  distinctly,  with  flowers  edging  its  graceful  windings. 
Thanks,  my  dearest  Frances !  You  come  like  a  good,  val- 
ued friend,  who  has  gathered  the  best  fruits  and  flowers 
which  she  has  found  on  her  way,  to  gladden  the  friend 
whom  she  goes  to  see.  It  is  this  spirit  of  kindness  and 
love  in  a  friend,  which  makes  her  warnings,  her  correc- 
tions, and  serious  advice  so  pleasant  to  receive,  so  pleasant 
to  follow.  In  that  pure  mirror  one  will  willingly  see  the 
spot  in  one's  own  soul ;  by  that  gentle  hand,  gratefully 
kissing  it,  one  willingly  allows  the  "  beam  "  to  be  removed 
from  one's  eye.  We  do  not  know  the  best  of  a  sincere 
friendship  until  we  have  experienced  it  in  ourselves.  Do 
you  know,  dearest  Frances,  what  I  fancy  that  Hedda  at 
this  moment  would  have  said  to  you,  whom,  next  to  her 
own  sisters,  she  held  most  dear  in  her  heart  and  in  her 
thoughts,  and  of  whom  she  spoke  so  much  in  her  last  mo- 
ments ?  I  fancy  I  hear  her  saying  :  — 

"  My  dear  Frances  !  you  have  been  wandering  a  long 
and  toilsome  road,  and  you  are  weary.  Sit  down  beneath 
this  tree ;  rest  yourself,  and  let  it  spread  its  shady  branches 
over  you  ;  lean  your  head  against  its  stem,  and  let  the  sum- 
mer's breeze  —  that  summer's  breeze  which  is  the  breath 
of  God's  love  —  caress  your  cheeks  and  eyelids,  and  think 
that  all  will  be  well  one  day.  Eest  so  awhile,  until  you 
have  gathered  strength  to  begin  your  walk  again  ;  you  will 
reach  the  goal  one  day,  and  then  you  will  see  that  all  is 
well." 

And  the  tree,  under  which  she  tells  you  to  rest,  —  it  is 
the  same  under  which  she  herself  did  rest,  and  which  gave 
peace  and  shelter  to  her  life;  the  tree  under  which  you 
now  so  often  are  standing. 

You  ask  me  what  I  felt  in  going  out  to  Arsta  ? 

I  read  lately  in  a  "  Gazette  of  Fashions,"  that  we  ought 
to  keep  our  happiness  secret  and  not  speak  of  it  to  others, 
because  they  cannot  "  tolerate  it."  But  this  is  a  piece  of 


230  LETTERS. 

the  Rochefoucauld  wisdom,  which  I  hate  like  the  plague, 
because  it  sucks  all  its  juice,  or  rather  its  venom,  out  of 
mankind's  plague-blister,  egotism,  which  it  mistakes  for 
the  true,  sound  nature  of  man.  My  faith  in  the  latter  is 
firmly  rooted  as  a  rock,  and  I  know  its  loveableness  and  its 
power  to  feel  sympathy ;  "  to  weep  with  them  that  weep, 
and  rejoice  with  them  that  are  happy  ; "  and  I  am,  there- 
fore, by  no  means  afraid  of  telling  you  what  I  felt  in  going 
out  to  Arsta,  little  as  it  is  to  speak  of. 

It  was  a  splendid  winter's  day.  The  sun  was  shining  so 
brightly  on  the  new-fallen  snow,  and  the  pine  forests  smelt 
so  fresh.  The  rocks  were  clothed  in  draperies  of  snow ; 
the  mosses  and  lichen  —  my  best  friends  amongst  plants  — 
shone  so  fresh  and  many-colored  from  the  moisture  which 
they  drank  out  of  the  melting  snow.  They  are  the  kind, 
the  pious  folks  in  the  vegetable  kingdom  ;  there  is  no 
nakedness,  no  poverty,  no  ugliness  which  they  scorn  to 
hide  with  their  beautiful  living  carpets,  and,  through  these, 
to  unite  with  the  regions  of  beauty  and  light.  It  is  only 
the  really  rotten  and  putrid  which  they  abandon  to  the 
parasitical  mushrooms.  Across  the  frozen  lakes  were  glid- 
ing long  lines  of  peasants'  sleighs,  and  my  own  covered 
sledge,  with  its  clear,  tinkling  bells,  flew  so  merrily  along 
over  lake  and  through  forest  It  was  a  winter's  day  in  its 
most  beautiful  garb,  and  to  me  as  charming  as  summer  in 
all  its  splendor.  Beside  me  sat  my  good  Marie,  with  her 
warm  heart  and  her  keen  sense  of  Nature's  beauties ;  ready, 
at  the  slightest  hint,  to  melt  from  mere  ecstasy.  When, 
after  my  pleasant  and  easy  drive,  I  came  out  here  to  these 
good,  benevolent  people  ;  to  these  quiet,  large,  and  lofty 
rooms,  in  which  many  flowers  were  blooming ;  when  at 
night  I  beheld,  through  a  transparent,  silvery  frost-vapor, 
the  red  lights  from  the  windows  in  the  work-people's 
homes,  in  which  I  knew  that  the  households  of  the  labor- 
ers on  the  estate  were  living  comfortably  and  decently ; 
when  I  then  saw  my  beloved  constellations  —  Orion  and 


LETTERS.  231 

the  Northern  Crown  —  slowly  mounting  the  wide,  clear 
heavens,  and  saw  before  me  a  time  of  solitude  and  liberty, 
oh !  then  all  appeared  so  beautiful  and  life  so  blessed ! 
I  had  received  a  letter  informing  me  that  our  mother's  and 
Agatha's  health  was  very  much  improving  at  Nizza ;  all 
the  friends  in  whose  society  I  lately  had  enjoyed  my  life, 
appeared  to  be  near  me,  so  pleasant,  so  living.  My  heart 
beat  warmly  for  them. 

Ah,  my  dear  Frances !  in  such  moments  of  our  life, 
when  every  thing  in  us  and  around  us  is  so  well,  we  ought 
to  fear  one  thing :  to  forget,  in  our  own  consciousness  of 
well-being,  that  the  world  is  full  of  misery  and  suffering. 
But  we  weak  mortals  are  only  too  prone  to  forget  this.  If 
all  in  this  world  were  beautiful,  all  good,  there  would  be  no 
need  of  a  transformation,  an  amendment,  which  we  call 
redemption  or  atonement.  We  should,  in  beautiful  har- 
mony, develop  ourselves  "from  one  brightness  to  another." 
If  all  were  evil,  —  yes,  then  no  such  improvement  would 
be  possible,  nor  a  loving  God  either.  Now  there  is  both 
good  and  evil.  Nature  brings  forth  thistles  and  thorns  (as 
it  is  symbolically  said  in  Genesis  iii.  18),  but  she  brings 
forth  also  roses  and  lilies.  In  man  there  is  sin  and  dis- 
ease ;  but  also  love,  truth,  and  health.  A  true  contempla- 
tion of  the  world  owns  both  and  must ;  man  and  his  world 
having  an  organic  coherence,  apply  to  this  world  TegneYs 
beautiful  words  on  Nature  :  — 

"  The  features  of  the  fallen  one  transparent 
Shew  noble  signs  of  origin  celestial, 
And  Daphne's  heart  beneath  the  bark  is  throbbing." 

With  respect  to  your  question,  whether  I  would  have  the 
"  Morning  Watches  "  translated,  I  can  only  answer  —  that 
I  cannot  answer  any  thing ;  for,  you  see,  I  am  a  party  in 
this  matter.  On  a  more  critical  examination  of  the  book, 
I  beg  you  not  to  forget  what  it  is  called,  namely,  "  Morning 
Watches  ; "  that  is,  the  first  faint  streaks  of  light  between 
night  and  a  new  day.  These  leave  of  course  a  number  of 


232  LETTERS. 

objects  only  partly  lit  up,  and  many  still  in  darkness ;  they 
light  up  only  the  heights,  only  the  general  outlines  of  the 
landscape.  They  forebode  and  bring  with  them  a  more 
complete  light,  and  this  will,  if  it  pleases  God,  also  come  in 
due  time.  Your  impression  of  this  book  delights  me,  and 
that  Ls  all  that  I  dare  at  present  wish.  You  have  rightly 
understood  its  leading  idea :  the  right  idea  of  God,  as 
shown  in  Christ's  manifestation,  creates  in  man  a  higher 
and  nobler  life,  and  saves  him  from  anxiety  and  darkness. 
We  learn  here  to  know  God  as  a  loving  Father,  and  we, 
and  those  dear  to  us,  repose  on  His  heart  and  in  His  care. 
I  read  here  for  the  first  time  Madame  de  Sevigne's 
"Letters."  I  am  delighted  with  their  liveliness  and  wit, 
and  astonished  to  see  how  pleasantly  at  that  time  people 
enjoyed  each  other's  society.  Those  were  other  "  parties  " 
and  other  sensations  than  those  of  Messrs.  N.  N.  and  Com- 
pany of  our  own  time.  But  very  afraid  were  they  of  old 
age  and  of  death.  Rather  than  encounter  these,  the 
charming  Sevigne  would  have  renounced  the  life  which  she 
had  lived,  and  wished  to  have  died  in  the  arms  of  her  nurse. 
The  ever-sparkling  champagne  in  her  letters  could  not 
keep  up  the  interest,  unless  this  thema  of  ardent,  living 
love,  "  Ma  fille !  ma  fille ! "  was  not  constantly  heard  in 
this  impetuous,  burning  heart  and  mind  of  the  loving  and 
amiable  mother. 

TO    BISHOP    TEGNER. 

ABSTA,  7fch  April,  1842. 

A  pigeon  had  one  day  flown  out  of  the  dove-cote  and 
set  out  upon  a  journey  to  foreign  countries.  Some  sports- 
men caught  sight  of  her  and  exclaimed,  "  What  kind  of 
bird  is  this ;  whence  comes  it  ?  We  must  catch  it  and 
pluck  it !  "  And  forthwith  they  began  firing  at  her ;  but, 
how  they  managed,  they  hit  only  one  or  two  of  her  feath- 
ers. The  pigeon  continued  her  gyrations  on  high,  and  the 
sportsmen,  when  they  had  fired  at  her  for  some  time,  be- 
came tired  and  soon  lost  sight  of  her. 


LETTERS.  233 

An  eagle  —  a  real  golden  eagle  —  had  meanwhile  from 
his  eyrie  watched  the  ignoble  sport.  His  heart  revolted  ; 
he  spread  his  mighty  pinions  and  flew  to  the  pigeon,  say- 
ing, "  Fear  not ;  innocence  is  on  your  side,  and  I  will  shel- 
ter you  under  my  wings."  But  when  the  sportsmen  beheld 
the  royal  bird  spreading  his  wings  over  the  pigeon,  and 
heard  him  deride  their  attempts,  they  became  exceedingly 
excited,  and  cried,  "  Look  here,  —  the  eagle  with  the  pigeon 
under  his  wing ! "  and  now  began  a  more  furious  firing, 
and  the  poor  pigeon  was  worse  off  than  before,  for  the  last 
danger  was  greater  than  the  first. 

In  this  fable  you  see,  my  dear,  my  kind,  for  me  sympa- 
thizing Tegner,  my  idea  of  how  matters  stand  with  my 
"  Morning  Watches,"  and  with  their  radical  reviewers,  and 
how  it  would  be,  if  you,  in  the  criticism  which  you  had  in 
view,  were  to  undertake  the  defense  of  my  work.  You 
say  yourself,  "  Defiled  we  get,  but  that  we  are  used  to." 
True  !  and  the  eagle  need  not  mind  what  is  thrown  at 
him  ;  he  has  already  soared  too  high  to  be  reached  by  the 
low-minded,  and  he  perches  in  peace  upon  his  Alpine 
height.  But  the  pigeon,  —  the  pigeon,  which  is  still  on 
the  wing,  which  does  not  soar  so  high,  she  can  be  reached 
and  hit,  and  even  if  this  does  not  much  impede  her  flight, 
her  joy  on  the  journey  which  she  has  begun,  still,  she  can- 
not with  indifference  behold  her  wings  soiled  by  impure 
hands.  Oh,  no,  Tegner  !  she  must  be  glad  the  sooner  the 
persecution  ends,  and  she  may  forget  it  while  she  is  bath- 
ing her  plumage  in  some  clear,  purifying  Bethesda  water. 
And  has  not  this  been  offered  to  me  ?  Oh,  yes  !  I  find 
this  Bethesda  is  my  own  conscience,  in  my  joy  at  having 
acknowledged  the  Holy  One  before  the  children  of  men ; 
I  find  it  in  the  public  and  private  acknowledgment  of  many 
an  honest  and  noble  soul ;  in  the  certainty  that  in  my  work, 
imperfect  as  it  is,  I  have  yet  spoken  words  and  thoughts 
which  shall  not  have  been  spoken  in  vain  ;  which  shall, 
like  the  "  dandelion  "  plant,  grow  all  the  stronger  for  being 


234  LETTERS. 

trampled  upon.  All  this  comforts  me.  And,  therefore, 
peace,  peace,  dear,  good  Tegner  !  peace  and  not  strife  with 
the  world ;  at  all  events,  not  for  my  sake.  I  beseech  you, 
peace  ! 

Although  in  your  review  and  in  the  verses  which  you 
dedicate  to  me,  there  are  things,  which,  both  for  the  sake 
of  my  own  self-love,  as  well  as  for  the  truth  and  beauty  of 
the  thoughts,  I  would  wish  to  see  given  to  the  public ;  still 
the  publication  of  them  cannot  now  call  forth  the  acknowl- 
edgment which  they  deserve  ;  because  they  are  too  nearly 
connected  with  things,  which,  especially  at  this  moment, 
would  hide  them  from  the  eyes  of  the  multitude.  Later  on, 
when  people's  minds  have  become  more  calm,  this  review 
will  be  gratefully  felt  and  greeted  with  pleasure. 

You  have  asked  for  my  sincere  opinion,  and  I  have 
given  it  according  to  my  best  and  earnest  convictions. 


TO  MR 


I  am  afraid  that  in  our  last  conversation  I  have  ex- 
pressed myself  on  some  important  points  imperfectly,  or 
in  a  manner  easily  misunderstood.  Do  not  therefore  feel 
displeased,  if  in  a  few  words  I  attempt  better  to  explain 
my  meaning.  I  spoke  of  going  to  work  only  to  pull  down. 
I  did  not  here,  however,  wish  to  speak  of  religion  and  its 
spirit.  This,  I  believe,  can  as  little  be  pulled  down  or 
attacked  successfully,  as  the  heart  can  be  pulled  out  of  a 
man's  breast,  if  he  shall  continue  to  exist.  No,  I  believe 
that  as  long  as  it  beats,  as  long  as  a  human  eye  exists  here 
below  to  contemplate  the  wonders  of  the  world  and  of  the 
heavens,  so  long  will  the  religious  truths,  which  in  all  times 
have  been  dimly  felt  and  have  attained  full  consciousness 
in  Christianity,  live  and  work  in  mankind.  But  the  forms, 
in  which  the  human  imagination  has  conceived  them,  can 
vary  with  it.  Therefore  I  spoke  of  distinguishing  between 
religion  and  the  dogmas  or  doctrines  in  which  these  truths 
are  embodied  and  have  assumed  a  form.  Not  that  the 


LETTERS.  235 

inner  and  the  outer,  the  truth  and  the  form,  differ  in  prin- 
ciple. The  dogmas  of  the  Church  can  contain  the  purest, 
fullest  truths,  although  many  of  them  have  become  fixed  in 
a  manner  and  in  phrases  which  no  longer  suit  the  more 
extended  knowledge  of  mankind.  This  belongs  to  the 
nature  of  the  shell,  and  to  throw  away  with  it  the  kernel, 
would  be  the  same  as  throwing  away  the  baby  together 
with  the  water  in  which  it  has  been  bathing.  Within  the 
shell  the  fruit  was  fostered  for  a  certain  period,  and  when 
the  shell  bursts,  it  is  in  order  that  the  fruit  may  appear  in 
a  more  complete  and  purer  form ;  in  a  form  more  adequate 
to  its  life  and  truth.  The  most  Christian  and  learned 
priests  in  the  Evangelical  Church  —  amongst  them  the 
noble  Neander  in  Berlin  —  acknowledge  openly  the  want 
of  such  a  regeneration  of  the  Church.  But  they  demand, 
and  they  are  right,  that  one  ought  not  to  misunderstand, 
nor  let  the  solid  tenor  of  the  dogmas  volatilize,  and  that 
before  creating  new  ones,  one  ought  thoroughly  and  rightly 
to  fathom  the  sense  and  essence  of  the  Christian  revela- 
tion. How  strange  the  world  would  look,  if  one  or  the 
other  dogma,  one  or  the  other  article  of  our  creed,  was  to 
be  taken  away :  the  experiment  is  not  a  new  one  in  the 
world.  During  the  French  Revolution  this  was  done 
thoroughly,  by  declaring  all  the  Christian  articles  of  faith 
invalid,  and  the  soil,  on  which  this  was  done,  became  incar- 
nadined with  blood.  The  noble  Condorcet,  who,  amongst 
all  the  French  Naturalists,  urged  this  doctrine  to  the  utter- 
most, and  endeavored  to  establish  the  hope  of  the  perfecti- 
bility of  mankind  upon  earth  by  means  of  arts  and  sciences, 
etc.  etc.,  finished  his  career  by  suicide.  But  this  anarchy 
in  the  realms  of  reason  could  not  be  of  any  long  duration. 
The  instant  a  calm  moment  set  in,  Robespierre  decreed 
that  "  there  exists  a  God."  And  soon  a°rain  the  old  doc- 

o 

trines  asserted  their  right,  as  indestructible  foundations  of 
the  nature  of  man  and  of  the  stability  of  society,  purified  in 
much  from  the  old  dross,  but  still  in  many  points  impure  and 


236  LETTERS. 

dark.  And  why  ?  Probably  because  the  process  of  purifi 
cation  had,  to  a  great  extent,  taken  the  character  of  demo 
lition,  instead  of  caution.  It  is  tolerably  well  acknowledged, 
that  the  cause  hereof  was  lying  quite  as  much  in  a  faulty 
conception  of  the  defenders  of  the  old,  as  of  the  advocates 
of  the  new,  doctrine. 

But  now  —  is  it  necessary  that  this  experiment  should 
be  tried  again  ?  Surely  you  believe  this  as  little  as  I  do. 
What  then  was  done,  is  done.  New  times  and  new  means 
have  come  into  the  world.  The  regeneration  which  for- 
merly was  effected  by  violent  means,  can  now,  ought  now 
to  be  effected  by  peaceful  means  ;  by  the  power  of  enlight- 
enment, of  conviction,  and  of  truth.  For  to  these  the  minds 
of  the  people  are  open,  and  the  press  is  a  mighty  engine  to 
work  upon  hearts  and  brains.  But  all  its  labor  for  the 
rights  of  man  and  for  the  regeneration  of  society,  in  that 
Christian  sense  which  equalizes  the  conditions  of  men,  and 
makes  mankind  brothers  and  sisters,  will  remain  imperfect 
and  lame,  if  it  is  torn  away  from  the  eternal  principles 
upon  which  Christianity  itself  has  based  its  doctrine  of 
freedom  and  love  ;  and  this,  because  these  alone  go  to  the 
bottom  of  the  thing,  and  contain  and  exhaust  the  whole 
truth ;  for  they  alone  comprise  "  the  laws  and  words  of 
eternal  life."  What  man  of  sense  would  plant  branches  in 
dry  sand,  instead  of  grafting  them  upon  a  living  tree,  where 
they  can  grow  and  live ;  or  who  would  erect  a  building 
without  giving  it  a  safe  foundation  ?  But  they  appear  to  me 
to  do  this,  who  preach  the  moral  and  political  doctrines  of 
Christianity,  while  at  the  same  time  they  contradict  the 
principles  out  of  which  these  emanate. 

But  to  plead  for  the  former  in  the  name  of  the  latter, 
would  be  a  task  worthy  a  great  reformer,  and  our  times 
require  to  see  such  a  one  appear.  A  sense  of  the  greatest 
want  of  mankind,  a  search  into  its  inmost  history  and  into 
its  relation  to  the  Christian  revelation  —  these  will  proba- 
bly be  the  most  essential  conditions  for  the  success  of  his 


LETTERS.  237 

mission.  But  blessed  be  every  one  who  paves  the  way  for 
him  in  this  spirit.  And  what  subject  can  be  more  worthy 
of  the  attention  of  the  acute  thinker?  Nowadays  one 
hastens  to  point  telescopes  at  every  social  phenomenon 
which  occupies  any  tolerably  broad  historical  base :  upon  the 
progress  of  journalism  as  well  as  upon  that  of  communism 
and  of  others.  And  a  phenomenon  (I  speak  of  the  relig- 
ious doctrines)  which  manifests  itself  wheresoever  society  is 
formed,  all  over  the  earth,  amongst  all  nations  in  all  times 
—  what  a  subject  for  thought  and  for  contemplation ! 

TO    THE    SAME. 

In  taking  the  liberty  of  sending  you  herewith  my  little 
book,  "  Two  Leaves  from  the  Borders  of  the  Rhine,"  I 
wish  you  to  receive  it  as  it  is  meant :  the  expression  of  a  sin- 
cere and  friendly  disposition  of  mind.  Besides,  I  wish  you 
to  peruse  my  trip  to  the  Rhine,  and  that,  in  reference  to  the 
same,  you  would  afford  me  an  opportunity  of  saying  a  few 
words.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  you  had  only  cursorily 
glanced  at  the  manuscript,  and  that  you  had  imagined  to 
detect  in  it  some  polemical  allusion  to  the  political  opinions 
which  you  entertain.  Believe  me,  I  have  not  had  an  idea  of 
any  such  thing.  I  could  not  have  dreamt  of  it,  as  I  myself 
embrace  these  opinions,  in  as  far  as  they  refer  to  the  ever 
increasing  advancement  of  liberty,  of  the  people's  more 
extensive  share  in  legislation,  and  in  other  matters.  My 
little  pamphlet  aims,  besides  an  account  of  the  Diaconess 
Institution  of  Kaiserswerth,  at  nothing  but  a  faithful  sketch 
of  real  circumstances  and  situations,  such  as  they  have  been 
viewed  —  I  venture  to  say  it  —  by  an  honest  and  unpreju- 
diced mind.  I  have  in  my  pamphlet  merely  changed 
names  and  accessories,  as  much  as  it  was  necessary,  in 
order  that  some  of  the  characters  mentioned  therein,  might 
not  be  recognized.  That  in  the  pamphlet  the  Republican 
has  been  allowed  to  act  a  part  not  very  advantageous  to 
society,  is  nothing  but  a  fact ;  and  in  relating  it  I  have  not 


238  LETTERS. 

intended  any  political  allusion.  But  if  such  a  one  should 
nevertheless  be  inferred,  I  am  even  willing  to  admit  it  in 
so  far  as  I  always  consider  the  man  of  the  extreme  left, 
the  ultra-Republican,  to  be  dangerous  to  be  followed,  as  a 
leader,  by  the  people.  My  young  friend  at  Marienberg 
did  not  belong  to  the  moderate  party,  and  you  would  your- 
self have  been  one  of  the  foremost  to  endeavor  to  bring 
him  to  political  reason.  The  position  which  I  occupy  in 
this  little  pamphlet,  is  no  other  than  that  which  I  have  held 
in  "  Sister-life,"  and  in  my  other  writings,  and  which  I 
should  wish  to  improve  more  and  more.  It  is  a  position 
above  the  parties  ;  one  from  which  I  will  contemplate  and 
acknowledge  the  humanly  good  and  pure  in  the  ultra-Re- 
publican, as  well,  as  in  the  ultra-Conservative  ;  amongst 
the  Protestants,  even  if  he  were  an  adherent  of  Bruno 
Bauer's  atheism  and  communism,  as  well  as  amongst  the 
Catholics,  even  if  he  were  the  most  obdurate  worshiper 
of  the  coat  in  Frier;  and  I  would  besides  let  opinions 
be  valued  at  what  they  are  worth,  even  if  I  should  be 
obliged,  in  consequence  of  the  imperative  force  of  thought, 
to  join  one  of  them  in  preference.  You  have  surely, 
more  than  many  others,  felt  within  you  this  imperative 
force  of  thought,  and  that  is  enough  to  know  that  others 
also  must  feel  the  same  in  the  direction  which  they  have 
taken.  My  meaning,  however,  is  not  that  all  these 
others  are  right  in  their  views ;  but  they  have  a  right  to 
adhere  to  their  belief  and  conviction,  even  if  these  are 
one-sided,  until  they  are  convinced  of  their  one-sidedness, 
and  can  rise  to  a  more  liberal  and  more  perfect  conviction. 
That  this  can  be  the  case,  I  believe,  for  I  believe  in  an 
eternal  right,  an  eternal  reason,  and  in  man's  capacity  to 
understand  this,  and  in  consequence  to  coincide  in,  and  to 
settle,  if  not  all  controversies,  at  any  rate,  all  Utter  contro- 
versies. But  nothing  could  contribute  more  effectually  to 
attain  the  aim  which  we  covet,  than  to  keep  this  position 
above  all  parties,  and  to  acknowledge  willingly  the  rights 


LETTERS.  239 

and  motives  of  others,  wherever  it  can  be  done,  while,  with 
the  whole  energy  of  our  mind,  we  endeavor  to  throw  light 
upon  the  subjects  under  contention,  and  thus,  by  the  inhe- 
rent power  of  truth  and  light,  compel  the  antagonist  to 
be  converted,  and  amend  his  views  when  they  are  wrong. 
I  do  not  know  whether  a  writer  who  is  the  leader  of  a  cer- 
tain party,  can  absolutely  hold  this  point  of  view  in  which 
he  acknowledges  the  good  in  an  opponent  and  sees  the 
wrong  in  the  ultra,  even  if  he  belonged  to  his  own  party 
—  the  impartial,  the  Christian  point  of  view ;  but  I  feel 
sure  that  he  would  infinitely  promote  the  cause  of  a  higher 
civilization  and  the  interests  for  which  he  works,  if  he  oc- 
cupies this  position  (because  the  acrimony  of  the  opposi- 
tion would  thereby  become  softened),  while,  with  all  the 
power  of  political  penetration,  tact,  etc.,  which  are  at  his 
command,  and  which  he  ought  preeminently  to  possess,  he 
would  throw  light  upon  the  political  arena.  He  would  be- 
come irresistible,  unconquerable,  if  in  his  political  phalanx 
he  were  to  enroll  this  higher  system  of  politics  —  aye,  made 
it  the  commander-in-chief  of  his  army. 

Listen  to  me  one  moment,  as  you  have  done  once  before 
on  serious  subjects.  Surely  your  own  sister  could  not 
approach  you  in  a  more  sincere  and  friendly  spirit  than  I 
do  at  this  moment.  It  is  therefore  that  I  request  you  to 
grant  me  a  moment's  hearing,  and  also  —  I  confess  it  — 
because  I  feel  that  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  which 
ought  not  to  be  rejected.  See  herein  only  a  proof  of  the 
confidence  which  I  have  in  you ;  of  the  weight  and  the 
value  which  I  attach  to  your  activity  for  our  beloved  native 
country,  for  letter-writing  is  not  my  weakness,  least  of  all 
when  it  requires  any  great  exertion  of  thought.  I  would 
rather  be  silent,  if  it  were  not  that  now  and  then  something 
within  me  compels  me  to  speak  out,  at  all  events  to  per- 
sons in  whose  head  and  heart  I  feel  confidence. 

In  my  little  pamphlet  upon  Marienberg  and  Kaisers- 
werth,  I  have  shown  the  contrast  between  two  convictions : 


240  LETTERS. 

the  one,  which,  disengaged  from  its  eternal  foundation,  be- 
lieves in  nothing  beyond  this  life  and  hopes  nothing  after 
death;  the  other,  that  which  believes,  hopes,  loves,  and 
lives  in  Christ.  I  have  shown  this,  because  I  saw  and 
found  it  so  in  the  places  and  amongst  the  people  of  whom 
I  speak ;  and  I  have  also  done  it  because  this  opinion  is 
rooted  in  my  inmost  conviction.  And  I  would  rather  allow 
my  right  hand  to  be  cut  off,  than  cease,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, to  point  out  to  man  the  only  true  road  to  happiness, 
and  to  show  him  the  darkness  and  danger  which  he  will 
have  to  encounter  on  the  contrary  road. 

We  observe  the  latter  in  the  national  agitations  of  the 
present  day.  These,  in  themselves,  are  not  for  evil.  No, 
they  are  for  good ;  they  are  necessary ;  they  are  the  rising 
of  the  oppressed  million  to  civil  rights,  to  the  participation 
in  all  the  privileges  and  obligations  which  make  man  a  re- 
sponsible being,  a  citizen,  and  which  belong  to  him  in  his 
quality  of  man ;  this  is  the  entrance  of  Christianity  upon 
the  political  territory.  But  the  barbarity,  the  bloodshed, 
and  the  confusion,  by  which  the  ideas,  manifested  in  such 
agitations,  assert  themselves,  are  certainly  not  the  acts  of 
Christianity.  The  unwise  and  irritating  opposition  has 
much  to  answer  for  in  this  ;  but  an  equally  great  responsi- 
bility rests  with  the  unwise  demagogues ;  they,  who,  like 
Bruno  Bauer,  Griin,  and  others,  try  to  establish  the  princi- 
ple that,  in  order  to  solve  satisfactorily  the  world's  enigma, 
one  need  only  "  Gott  ganz  wegzustreichen ;  "  who  thereby 
exempt  man  from  all  higher  responsibility,  making  him  the 
sport  of  his  own  passions,  or  giving  him  up  to  the  leaders, 
who  understand,  cleverly  enough,  how  to  avail  themselves 
of  them.  Miigge  has  therefore  very  logically  said  :  "  Das 
Volk  ist  die  todte  Masse ;  die  grossen  Geister  sind  die, 
welche  es  regieren."  What  this  would  ultimately  lead  to, 
ought  to  be  easily  seen  by  every  person,  with  a  good  and 
clear  head,  who  would  take  the  trouble  thoroughly  to  sift 
the  matter.  But  history  has  in  our  days  taken  upon  her- 


LETTERS.  241 

self  to  record  this  in  letters  of  blood.  Laborers  and  arti- 
sans, who  believe  in  God,  in  his  providence  and  in  his 
retributive  laws,  will  not  drench  the  cities  in  blood.  Chris- 
tian people  will  not  torture  their  victims,  and  call  down 
upon  their  own  heads  and  upon  their  country  a  sanguinary 
reaction  and  civil  war.  They  will  insist  upon  the  claims  to 
political  rights  which  have  been  awakened  in  their  breast, 
and  they  will  also,  if  necessity  should  compel  them,  fight 
for  them  ;  but  they  will  also  know  how  to  pray,  and  how 
to  wield  the  sword  of  intellect,  instead  of  that  of  force. 
Compelled  by  the  nature  of  my  own  mind,  which  wants  to 
see  things  in  their  inmost  necessity,  I  have  asked  myself: 
Is  it  not  necessary  that  atheists,  such  as  Helvetius,  Thomas 
Paine,  Strauss,  Bruno  Bauer,  and  others  like  them,  should 
exist  ?  Is  it  not  ordained  by  the  eternal  laws  and  plans  of 
Providence,  that  they  should  exist  and  speak  ?  And  1 
have  been  obliged  to  answer —  Yes!  Yes,  it  lies  in  the  na- 
ture of  thought  that  it  should  develop  itself,  even  to  the 
utmost  extremes.  Only  thereby  can  they  be  combated  and 
vanquished.  The  thinking  atheist  serves  God  as  much  as 
he  who  acknowledges  Him,  although  in  a  different  way ; 
the  former,  as  the  negation  over  which  affirmation  must 
advance,  in  order  to  gain  corroboration ;  and  the  latter,  as 
this  affirmation  itself.  The  former  might  therefore  be 
looked  upon  as  the  martyr  of  the  idea,  and  of  the  thought, 
if  he  were  not  deficient  in  that  which  constitutes  the  great- 
ness of  the  martyr,  namely-:  temporarily  to  perish,  while 
the  eternal  truth,  fer  which  which  he  fought,  shines  in 
greater  glory,  watered  by  his  blood,  blessing  mankind, 
which  will  ultimately  acknowledge  in  the  martyr  their 
hero  and  benefactor.  But  the  demagogues  of  the  extreme 
left,  in  point  of  religion  as  well  as  of  politics,  of  whom  I 
have  spoken,  shall  perish  —  many  of  them  probably  in  the 
earthquake  which  they  have  called  forth  —  without  being 
able  to  say  :  "  I  fall  in  defense  of  the  highest  truths,  as  the 

servant  of  God  and  of  mankind,  and  my  work  shall  remain 
16 


242  LETTERS. 

as  a  blessing  to  the  world  when  I  have  left  the  arena." 
They  shall  not  be  able  to  say  this  ;  for  the  goblet  of  liberty 
which  they  offered  to  the  nations,  contained  —  poison. 
Perhaps  they  knew  it  not ;  they  may  be  morally  irrespon- 
sible, but  unhappy  and  unwise  I  must  call  them. 

I  have  said  that  they  must  exist  as  actors  in  that  life, 
and  those  ideas  which  develop  themselves  in  history.  But 
why  should  I  then  speak  and  fight  against  them  ?  I  do  it 
in  the  conviction  that  this  moment  may  be  more  transitory 
and  more  easily  overcome,  in  proportion  as  its  representa- 
tives become  fewer  in  number  and  more  insignificant. 
Certain  it  is,  that  the  more  life's  central  powers  become 
strengthened  (I  mean  here  those  which  place  earthly  de- 
velopment in  immediate  connection  with  the  eternal  idea 
which  is  its  foundation),  the  more  quietly  will  the  develop- 
ment of  society  progress  towards  liberty  and  happiness ; 
the  more  will  the  extremes  of  "  right "  and  "  left "  be  weak- 
ened, and  become  more  harmless  and  vanishing  accidents. 

One  acknowledges  pretty  generally  in  the  camp  of  the 
liberals,  that  the  development  of  liberty  and  universal  cit- 
izenship, which  now  causes  society  to  ferment,  has  its  foun- 
dation in  the  doctrine,  revealed  by  Christianity,  of  men's 
equality  before  God.  It  has  been  said  that  this  is  Chris- 
tianity's origin  in  political  life,  and  that  Christianity  ought 
to  become  political.  I  grant  this  with  all  my  heart.  But 
how  does  it  become  so  ?  Why,  by  grafting  the  lower,  the 
earthly  politics,  upon  the  higher  (the  branch  upon  the 
tree),  and  by  proving  its  foundation  to  lie  in  the  eternal, 
immortal  idea,  whose  doctrine  we  call  Christianity.  Only 
thereby  can  it  grow  in  strength  and  freshness,  and  escape  the 
fate  of  those  branches  which  are  planted  in  loose  sand,  and 
which,  though  fresh  in  the  beginning,  soon  become  withered. 

Richert  and  Geyer  —  and  also  Torsten  Ruclenskold  in 
his  way  —  have  in  our  country  shown  how  this  lower  and 
higher  policy  can  be  connected ;  how  the  former  cannot  be 
consistently  imagined  without  the  latter  ;  and  the  greatest 


LETTERS.  243 

thinker  of  our  day,  Hegel,  has  proved  in  his  work,  "  Die 
Philosophic  der  Religion,"  how  all  the  powerful  thoughts, 
which  now  are  uttered,  claiming  as  a  right  national  liberty, 
equity,  justice  to  all,  have  their  foundation  and  definition 
only  in  God,  as  manifested  in  Christ.  But  from  this  follows 
also,  that  every  development  of  liberty,  which  is  not  con- 
scious of  this  its  foundation,  or  which  is  reactionary  against 
the  same,  must  miss  the  aim  which  it  strives  for,  or  bring 
forth  weeds  amongst  the  wheat  to  such  an  extent  as  easily 
to  destroy  it  all. 

I  once  heard  you  express  the  fear,  that  Sweden  was  des- 
tined, as  a  nation,  to  sink  under,  or  merge  into,  the  larger 
continental  powers.  I  believe  that  this  might  come  to 
pass,  if  it  were  possible  to  extinguish  in  the  breasts  of  the 
people  that  belief  in  God,  in  His  eternal  laws,  in  the  per- 
sonal responsibility  of  the  individual  —  in  a  word,  that  be- 
lief in  a  heaven,  which  is  earth's  greatest  strength,  and 
which  hitherto  has  made  the  little,  the  poor  Sweden's 
greatness  and  power.  If  it  holds  fast  to  this  root  of  its 
life  and  its  will,  it  must  continue  to  exist,  although  it  may 
stand  behind  in  much  of  the  industrial  development  which 
constitutes  the  wealth  of  other  countries.  But  I  do  not 
think  that  this  belief  in  God  can  be  eradicated  in  Sweden. 
But  it  can  be  weakened  or  strengthened,  and  it  may  de- 
pend upon  this,  whether  the  social  development,  towards 
which  we  are  now  progressing,  will  be  egotistical  and  san- 
guinary, or  will  be  founded  upon  love's  free  and  liberty 
giving  life. 

TO  BARON  YON  BRINCKMAN. 

I  thank  you  very  much,  my  dear  Baron,  for  having  af- 
forded me  an  opportunity  of  trying  to  explain  my  views  on 
the  Fine  Arts  as  a  part  of  life.  You  have  yourself  made  the 
remark,  that  it  is  the  "  writing  laziness,"  which  is  the  cause 
why  we  so  often  rest  contented  with  our  half-thoughts  with- 
out knowing  their  incompleteness.  This  incompleteness  is 


244  LETTERS. 

not  discovered  until  our  thoughts  are  to  be  ranged  in  rank 
and  file,  and  not  until  then  can  they  be  placed  in  regular 
order.  And  in  now  going  to  march  up  my  recruits,  I  must 
request  the  experienced  general  —  experienced  on  the  field 
of  fine  arts  —  whenever  it  is  required,  to  give  the  words  of 
command  :  halt !  right !  left ! 

If  yesterday  my  words  should  have  made  you  believe, 
my  dear  Baron,  that  I  do  not  understand  how  to  appreciate 
the  happiness  of  the  collector  of  works  of  art,  I  should  be 
very  sorry,  because  they  must  then  have  been  more  stupid 
than  myself.  I  only  wanted  to  express  a  way  of  feeling, 
individual  to  myself,  and  with  reference  only  to  my  own 
life.  The  indescribable  enjoyment  which  I  derive  from 
works  of  art,  the  higher  life  which  I  feel  while  wandering 
about  in  your  museum,  must  be  the  best  interpreters  of 
what  I  think  of  the  influence  of  the  fine  arts  upon  happi- 
ness, and  of  the  life  of  the  collector.  That,  notwithstand- 
ing this,  I  shall  never  be  a  collector  of  works  of  art,  nor, 
like  you,  surround  myself  with  visible  productions  of  art, 
is  owing  to  reasons  which  I  do  not  wish  to  explain.  I  will 
only  say  this  much,  that  any  thing  having  money  value  will 
not  long  remain  in  my  possession  —  not  even  a  medal 
awarded  by  the  Swedish  Academy.  Offer  me  fifty  rix  dol- 
lars for  any  thing,  except  for  a  warm  cloak,  and  it  is  yours 
at  once.  Nevertheless,  my  dear  Baron,  I  adore  art,  and 
walk  through  life  —  allow  me  to  say  it  with  humble  joy  —  as 
a  novice  in  art.  Of  every  thing  which  I  experience  in  life  ; 
which  I  enjoy  and  suffer ;  and  which  I  perceive  in  man,  in 
nature,  in  my  own  soul  —  of  all  this  I  endeavor  with  love 
to  comprehend  the  meaning  and  essence,  according  to  my 
best  understanding,  and  to  form  out  of  it  a  clearer  and 
moie  perfect  image  of  life  with  its  power,  that  is  to  say,  a 
group,  in  which  God,  man,  and  things,  live  together  in  har- 
mony. This  I  would  wish  to  call,  the  art  of  life.  This 
seems  to  me  to  belong  to  every  intelligent  person,  and 
without  this  art  I  do  not  understand  life,  neither  here  on 


LETTERS.  245 

earth  nor  beyond  it.  It  is  my  sincere  belief,  that  the  Eter- 
nal Architect  of  the  universe  has  auditories  and  laboratories 
enough,  and  models  also,  to  prevent  the  divine  exercise  of 
this  culture  from  ever  dying  out  amongst  the  thinking  and 
feeling  spirits.  Artists,  in  the  sense  now  alluded  to,  I  would 
call  not  only  him  who  creates  aesthetic  works  of  art,  but 
also  the  honest  man  who  lives  according  to  strict  and  pure 
principles,  and  the  good  man  whose  life  is  devoted  to  pure 
sacrifices  of  love.  He  creates  his  world  out  of  the  genius 
of  the  heart.  These  are  human  artists,  as  well  as  Shakes- 
peare, Goethe,  and  Schiller. 

I  have  mentioned  Goethe,  and  this  name  calls  up  before 
my  imagination  the  world  of  art,  par  excellence ;  reality 
embodied  in  beautiful  forms,  comprehensible  to  our  out- 
ward senses  in  its  reality,  in  its  truth.  I  have  never  been 
able  to  understand  the  contrast,  which  so  many  —  and 
amongst  others  Schiller  —  speak  of,  in  reality  and  poetry. 
It  is  this  innermost  reality  of  life,  of  existence,  of  things, 
which  to  me  appear  the  romance  of  poetry,  and  this  poe- 
try —  but  how  to  express  the  unfathomable  —  has  seemed  to 
me  to  be  a  sound,  a  power,  a  spiritual  essence ;  something 
eternal,  living,  life-giving ;  something  of  God ;  something 
which  reveals  Him  within  as  well  as  without  us.  Ah  !  it  is 
in  such  meetings,  when  the  lyre  of  the  poet  resounds- in  vol- 
untarily; when  the  Eros-image  is  born  within  the  poet's 
joy-inspired  bosom  ;  when  even  the  Paul's  power  stands 
speechless,  only  to  be  born  anew,  glorified,  because  he  has 
beheld  God.  The  artist  does  not  then  invent,  he  only  con- 
ceives in  a  certain  form  the  eternally  living,  eternally  ex- 
isting. Life,  in  its  highest  moments,  is  called  "  inspira- 
tion." In  these  moments  the  image  of  a  God  is  born  ;  it 
is  inspiration  ;  it  is  inborn. 

Goethe's  life  appears  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  richest,  most 
perfect  artist-lives.  Up  to  his  last  moments  his  Genius 
stood  beside  him.  His  making  signs  with  his  finger  in  the 
air,  when  his  tongue  had  refused  to  speak,  —  this  last  at- 


246  LETTERS. 

tempt  of  the  earthly  organ  to  create,  —  is  beautifully  touch- 
ing. These  signs  appear  to  me  as  a  sacred  signature  to  his 
closed  career,  so  near  the  confines  of  a  new  one.  Oh  !  he 
has  not  finished  yet,  —  the  glorious  one.  Art  is  eternal ! 

The  artist's  different  tasks  —  faithfully  to  copy  reality  in 
its  every-day  dress  ;  to  reveal  it  in  its  ideal  form  ;  to  copy 
its  details ;  to  form  a  whole  out  of  many  parts  —  have  often 
been  the  subject  of  my  thoughts.  It  has  appeared  to  me 
that  no  work  of  art  can  be  beautiful  in  the  highest  sense 
of  the  word,  unless  the  beautiful  form  is  based  upon  an 
eternal,  divine  truth.  Then  shall  Milton's  "  Paradise 
Lost "  stand  higher  than  all  the  works  of  Byron  ;  "  La  Ma- 
donna di  San  Sisto  "  be  worth  more  than  the  Laocoon 
group  ;  Fogelberg's  "  Oden  "  —  the  personification  of  power 
and  wisdom  —  more  than  Hogarth's  paintings.  For  the 
beautiful,  as  well  as  for  the  good,  I  would  wish  to  have  a 
Jacob's  ladder  with  an  endless  number  of  steps  reaching 
from  earth  up  to  heaven  ;  but  the  lower  ones  ought  to  be 
prized  as  well  as  the  highest.  To  value  all,  enjoy  all,  do 
justice  to  all  therein,  I  see  the  greatest  happiness  and  an 
enviable  faculty. 

I  have  not  yet  told  you  what  I  think  of  the  life  of  a  col- 
lector of  works  of  art.  But  I  have  said  that  it  is  a  happy 
life.  -It  is  a  social  life  in  its  noblest  form  :  he  associates 
with  what  life  has  most  noble  and  most  valuable,  were  it 
only  not  in  things!  You  see,  my  dear  Baron,  herein  lies 
one  of  the  reasons  which  makes  me  incapable  of  becoming 
a  collector,  and  which  has  determined  my  taste  for  a  life 
a  la  Diogene.  With  every  trifling  toy  we  forge  another 
little  chain,  which  fetters  us  to  earth. 

But  I  will  not  tire  you  any  longer.  I  am  a  beginner, 
although  old  in  years,  and  my  endeavors  to  unriddle  my- 
self cannot  be  pleasant  to  others. 


LETTERS.  247 


TO    MR.    GEORGE   A 


STOCKHOLM,  29th  March,  1844. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  The  doubts  which  you  have  imparted  to  me, 
in  consequence  of  the  public  appeal  made  by  me  to  the 
women  of  Sweden  to  labor  for  the  establishment  of  a 
Refuge  for  neglected  children,  gives  me  an  opportunity  of 
discussing  thoroughly  with  you  a  subject  so  much  deserv- 
ing of  consideration,  and  so  dear  to  my  heart.  I  thank 
you  for  this,  and  while  I  look  upon  it  as  an  agreeable  duty 
to  reply  to  your  objections,  I  shall  endeavor,  where  I  can- 
not satisfactorily  solve  your  doubts,  to  take  a  road  on 
which  we  both,  perhaps,  with  our  united  efforts,  may  find 
an-  exit  out  of  the  labyrinth  ;  a  point  of  rest  for  our  inquir- 
ing, hesitating  spirits. 

That  you  should  have  seen  in  my  appeal  something  else 
and  something  more  than  merely  an  inducement  to  a  col- 
lection, an  activity  for  some  special  purpose  —  for  this,  your 
way  of  seeing  and  understanding  things  in  general,  and 
your  letter  to  me,  are  a  sufficient  warrant.  My  more  imme- 
diate object  has  been  to  call  forth  or  to  rouse  the  con- 
sciousness of  social  life  and  worth  in  woman's  life  and 
sphere  of  activity,  considered  in  a  Christian  and  social 
point  of  view ;  I  wanted  to  infuse  a  fresher  life  into  the 
public  spirit  in  this  sphere,  and  to  do  it  with  a  breath  of 
Christianity's  holy  spirit.  The  invitation,  which  some  la- 
dies, with  whom  I  am  personally  unacquainted,  have  ad- 
dressed to  me,  to  apply  to  the  women  of  Sweden  in  favor 
of  a  "  Refuge  and  Reformatory,"  I  at  once  availed  myself 
of  as  a  welcome  opportunity  for  expressing  thoughts,  the 
inmost  aim  of  which  goes  beyond  the  immediate  visible 
and  stated  purpose,  and  the  seed  of  which  I  hope  will 
strike  root  and  grow  like  the  grain  hidden  in  the  earth.  It 
is  not  now  my  intention  to  speak  of  these  more  extensive 
views.  I  have  appealed  to  the  motherly  element  in  society 
to  feel,  think,  labor  more  largely,  and  above  all,  to  take 


248  LETTERS. 

care  of  the  destitute  children  ;  to  save  them,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  to  insure  the  future  of  our  native  country,  in  as 
far  as  this  is  dependent  upon  them.  It  is  this  more  imme- 
diate, practical  purpose,  which  here  and  there  calls  forth 
agitations  and  echoes,  which  I  also  would  have  wished  to 
have  seen  revealed  in  another  way.  But  they  may  perhaps 
be  allowed  without  inconvenience  to  resound,  and  as  far  as 
their  power  goes,  to  strike  the  chords  —  or  expire. 

The  superfluous  will  adjust  itself,  and  from  under  the 
perishable  flowers  a  really  fresh,  life-giving  stream  of  spring 
water  may  gush  forth. 

The  before  mentioned  purpose,  warmly  advocated  by 
many,  has,  however,  amongst  several  earnest  people  of 
both  sexes,  raised  some  scruples,  which  I  also  find  stated 
in  your  letter.  Let  us  therefore  speak  of  the  rescue  of  the 
destitute  children,  and  of  the  "  Refuge  and  Reformatory  "  as 
a  means  to  this  end.  Some  of  your  objections  against  the 
same,  especially  with  respect  to  the  depraved  children,  and 
their  seclusion  in  a  separate  Institution,  may  be  best  met 
by  a  little  historical  sketch  of  the  origin  of  the  "  Reforma- 
tory "  in  Stockholm. 

In  the  year  1813,  when  Major  Venus  was  Superintend- 
ent of  the  House  of  Correction  here  in  Stockholm,  several 
boys  from  twelve  to  sixteen  years  of  age,  were  imprisoned 
in  it  for  various  crimes  committed  by  them.  The  author- 
ities were  uncertain  what  to  do  with  them,  as  it  was 
considered  dangerous  to  let  them  remain  at  large,  with 
their  evil  propensities,  in  a  world  where  they  found 
no  more  protection  or  guidance  than  the  birds  in  the 
air.  In  the  course  of  his  conversation  with  these  boys, 
the  Superintendent  began  to  perceive  that  their  misfor- 
tune might  have  been  prevented,  if  they,  instead  of  being 
driven  out  of  their  homes,  in  consequence  of  the  vices  or 
misfortunes  of  their  parents,  had  been  early  taken  care  of 
by  the  charity  of  society,  and  properly  trained ;  and  that 
they  might  still  be  saved  from  utter  ruin,  if  placed  under 


LETTERS.  249 

parental  care  in  a  separate  Institution,  where  they  could  be 
made,  as  it  were,  new  beings.  Major  Venus  accordingly 
appealed  to  the  public,  through  the  "  Dagligt  Allehanda " 
newspaper,  for  the  establishment  of  such  an  Institution. 
The  Bishop  Wallin,  and  Mr.  Wannquist,  the  Chief  of  the 
Police  in  Stockholm,  examined  and  approved  of  the  plan  ; 
but  it  was  not  until  several  years  afterwards,  or  until  the 
birth  of  Prince  Carl  in  1826,  that  these  two  gentlemen 
came  forward  and  placed  themselves  at  the  head  of  the  en- 
terprise, and  this  so  successfully,  that  the  "  Reformatory  " 
soon  was  established,  and  opened  for  a  great  many  unfor- 
tunate children,  whose  number  in  the  capital  had  increased 
year  after  year.  In  the  beginning,  both  neglected  and  de- 
praved children  (or  children  publicly  known  as  vicious,  and 
punished  as  such)  were  placed  together  in  one  arid  the 
same  Institution.  But  soon  it  became  apparent  that  their 
separation  would  be  necessary.  The  depraved  children, 
comparatively  few  in  number,  stood  branded  amongst 
those  who  were  only  neglected,  and  had  always  to  hear  or  to 
feel  from  their  thoughtless  little  comrades  the  reproach, 
"  This  you  have  done."  Besides,  the  Cain's  mark  was  only 
too  distinctly  stamped  upon  their  forehead.  They  were 
also,  after  having  undergone  their  punishment,  and  when 
they  were  handed  over  by  the  police  to  the  Institution, 
found  to  be  so  depraved,  that  they  not  only  corrupted  the 
innocent  ones,  but  also  became  highly  dangerous  to  the 
"  Reformatory,"  in  which  a  stop  was  put  to  their  idleness 
and  vices,  which  roused  their  revengeful  spirit,  and  their 
desire  —  cost  what  it  would  —  to  free  themselves  from  the 
discipline  of  the  Institution,  in  order  to  continue  their 
former  dissolute  life.  It  was  therefore  found  necessary  to 
establish  a  separate  "  Reformatory  "  for  these  boys,  which 
in  its  exterior  became  a  kind  of  prison,  but  which  in  its 
interior  was  organized  so  as  to  afford  them  all  the  advanta- 
ges of  a  home,  and  of  a  moral  and  religious  education.  Of 
ten  boys  who  have  gone  out  of  this  "  Reformatory,"  nine 


250  LETTERS. 

have  hitherto  remained  good :  several  of  them  are  in  cor- 
respondence with  their  former  teacher  and  friend,  and  only 
one  has  again  fallen  into  evil  courses. 

In  large  cities  it  is  necessity  which  compels  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  "  Refuge  and  Reformatory."  A  fact  presents 
itself  there,  which  cannot  be  ignored :  there  exists  a  fallen 
race,  whose  numerous  offspring  grows  up  to  become  a 
plague-sore  to  society.  Ought  we  to  let  them  grow  up  thus  ? 
I  say  "  No  !  "  Instead  of  the  fallen  race,  we  ought  to  foster 
a  better  and  a  more  healthy  one.  Or,  how  is  the  evil  to  be 
attacked  at  the  root  ?  The  number  of  wicked  people's 
unfortunate  offspring  is  increased  by  children  who  are  too 
many  in  the  home  of  honest  but  poor  parents,  or  who  by 
death  have  lost  their  natural  protectors  and  support,  and 
are  consequently  thrown  upon  the  world  to  shift  for  them- 
selves. 

There  are,  therefore,  and  with  an  increasing  population, 
there  will  probably  always  be  found  destitute  children  in 
sufficient  numbers  to  make  such  a  Refuge  necessary  in  its 
first  form.  Possibly  its  later  division  may  be  gradually 
dispensed  with  through  the  efficacy  of  the  former. 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  the  second  point  in  your  letter: 

"  Let  us  grant  the  necessity  and  the  use  of  separate  Re- 
formatory Institutions  —  may  we  perhaps  not  get  too  many 
of  them  ?  Have  we  considered  in  all  its  parts  what  such 
an  Institution  really  is,  and  what  children  ought  to  be  its 
objects  ?  Have  we  formed  a  distinct  idea  of  the  difference 
between  a  Reformatory  and  a  Boarding  School  ?  "  .  .  .  . 
These  questions  require  to  be  more  thoroughly  weighed, 
and  they  will  no  doubt  be  so  now,  when  the  attention  of  the 
public  has  been  directed  to  the  chief  object,  and  the  public 
mind  is  alive  to  it. 

The  indispensableness  of  a  Refuge  and  Reformatory 
seems  to  be  a  settled  thing.  The  number  of  these  Institu- 
tions, the  locality  where,  and  the  manner  how,  they  are  to 
be  established,  must  depend  upon  the  want  thereof,  and 


LETTERS.  251 

upon  local  circumstances,  which  may  be  different  in  each 
province  of  the  country.  The  knowledge  hereof,  and  a 
clear  idea  of  the  meaning  with,  and  the  purpose  of,  such  an 
Institution,  must  decide  the  question. 

One  may  also  imagine  this  establishment  to  be  at  work 
where  no  Refuge,  properly  so  called,  does  exist.  It  then 
forms  a  part  of  the  invisible  church,  and  can,  like  the  visi- 
ble church,  be  found  in  every  congregation. 

There,  where  the  Refuge  stands  forth  as  an  independent 
Institution,  having  its  own  government,  its  nearer  relation 
to  society  and  to  the  other  establishments  for  relief  and 
education  becomes  a  matter  of  importance  to  decide,  and 
the  question  then  touches  in  the  first  instance  the  inner 
organization,  system  of  working,  and  the  object  of  the  Insti- 
tution. 

With  reference  to  older  depraved  children,  it  appears  to 
me  that  one  cannot  hesitate.  For  them  the  Reformatory 
must  have,  above  all,  a  moral  tendency.  It  must  then  be 
an  educational  institution.  It  becomes  to  the  young  person 
every  thing  or  nothing.  The  State  must  here,  for  the  sake 
of  its  own  good  and  for  its  own  security,  meet  the  prodigal 
son,  as  did  the  father  in  the  gospel.  Mercy  must  there  go 
before  Justice. 

The  case  is  different  with  regard  to  merely  neglected  or 
younger  children.  The  security  of  the  State  and  the  good 
of  the  children  do  not  require  unconditionally  that  in  the 
House  of  Refuge  they  should  receive  a  complete  moral  and 
physical  education  ;  because,  even  without  it,  they  can  be 
saved,  and  become  good  and  useful  members  of  society. 
Therefore  we  ought  here  to  consider  the  important  ques- 
tion, concerning  the  moral  injustice  which  would  be  done 
in  society,  if  the  children  of  bad  parents,  by  being  admitted 
into  the  House  of  Refuge,  were  to  be  better  provided  for, 
and  if  better  prospects  for  the  future  were  to  be  opened  for 
them,  than  for  the  children  of  honest  but  poor  parents. 
This  question  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  and  I  beg  of 


252  LETTERS. 

you  to  consider  it  with  me,  and  try  to  discover  the  point  at 
which  the  influence  of  the  House  of  Refuge  would  become 
combined  with  the  moral  justice  which  is  the  foundation 
of  virtue  and  of  society,  and  which  ordains  that  man  shall 
be  responsible  for  his  actions,  —  that  "  as  he  sows  so  shall 
he  reap." 

The  House  of  Refuge  for  neglected  children  in  Stock- 
holm is,  at  the  same  time,  an  educational  institution.  More 
than  one  hundred  children  are  educated  there  at  present, 
and  provided  for  from  their  eighth  year  until,  when  they 
have  been  confirmed,  they  enter  into  service,  which  the 
Directors  of  the  Institution  procure  for  them. 

They  very  easily  find  employment,  because  these  unusu- 
ally clever  and  well-taught  children  are  much  in  request. 
All  this  is  well  and  good ;  but  the  greater  number  of  these 
have  come  out  of  the  abodes  of  vice  and  neglect.  Here 
appears  the  moral  injustice,  and  this  seems  to  me  so  dan- 
gerous in  its  consequences  in  general,  that,  having  been 
led  by  thinking  people  seriously  to  weigh  this  matter  in  my 
mind,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  submit  to  the  Directors, 
whether  the  House  of  Refuge  ought  not  properly  to  be 
considered  as  a  central  depot  for  these  children,  into  which 
they  should  be  received  and  taken  care  of  during  the 
earliest  part  of  their  misery,  which  often  is  so  great,  that, 
being  previously  nearly  starved,  they  can  in  the  beginning, 
only  with  difficulty  bear  food;  and  from  which  depot  they 
may  afterwards,  as  soon  as  convenient,  be  transplanted  into 
the  country  amongst  peasants  and  small  farmers,  against 
some  moderate  remuneration,  by  which  means  not  only  the 
child  would  cost  scarcely  half  of  what  it  now  costs  the  Insti- 
tution ;  but  the  Institution  would  be  enabled  to  admit  a 
much  greater  number  of  children  ;  besides  which  the  still 
more  important  advantage  would  be  gained,  that  the  chil- 
dren would  be  placed  in  the  same  condition  of  life,  would 
become  inured  to  the  same  toil,  and  would  have  the  same 
prospects  for  the  future  as  poor  people's  children  in  gen- 
eral in  Sweden. 


LETTERS.  253 

The  moral  injustice  would  in  this  way  be,  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, counteracted.  Besides,  one  would  avoid  the  danger 
of  getting,  as  it  is  the  case  now,  a  superfluity  of  artisans 
and  mechanics,  whereas  the  healthy  and  useful  class  of 
country  people  and  agriculturists  would  increase,  which  in 
our  country  is  considered  to  be  very  advantageous.  I 
have  been  answered:  "Your  project  is  very  judicious ; 
but  in  that  case  the  House  of  Eefuge  ceases  to  be  a  moral 
House  of  Refuge  —  it  is  then  placed  on  the  same  footing 
as  the  Orphan  Asylum  ;  it  becomes  merely  an  extension 
of  the  same ;  and  see  what  is  the  fate  of  those  children 
who  are  taken  out  of  it  and  placed  with  other  people. 
Do  not  a  great  number  of  them  become  utterly  lost  in 
the  hands  of  their  greedy  foster-parents,  who  do  not  care 
for  them  ?  Nor  does  any  body  know  how  they  are  trained 
morally.  Therefore,  first  to  admit  the  children  and  then 
to  plant  them  out,  would  not  be  to  save  them." 

Notwithstanding  these  objections,  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  this  method  would  be  the  best  and  the  right  one,  if 
we  consider  the  matter  at  large.  The  dangerous  conse- 
quences, which  you  allude  to,  might  be  guarded  against  to 
a  great  extent  by  a  strict  surveillance.  This  surveillance 
could  best  be  kept  up  by  the  clergy  in  the  respective  con- 
gregations ;  but  I  allow  that  the  thing  has  its  difficulties.1 

Some  part  of  the  moral  injustice  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  may  be  avoided  by  means  of  the  principles  which 
are  followed  in  selecting  the  children  which  are  to  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  House  of  Refuge.  In  Stockholm  this  has 
been  actually  done  in  this  way :  that  the  Directors  in  the 

i  The  plan  suggested  as  above,  was  a  few  years  ago  adopted  by  the  Di- 
rectors of  the  House  of  Refuge,  who,  after  having  purchased  an  island  of 
considerable  extent,  situated  at  a  distance  of  about  five  and  twenty  English 
miles  from  Stockholm,  entered  into  a  contract  with  the  peasants  and  farm- 
ers living  on  the  same,  according  to  which  they  engaged  themselves,  on  the 
payment  of  a  fixed  sum,  eacli  to  receive,  educate,  and  to  instruct  in  agricult- 
ure, one  or  more  children  of  the  House  of  Refuge,  under  the  supervision  of 
the  manager  of  the  principal  estate  on  the  island.  This  arrangement  has 
proved  very  beneficial  to  the  children.  —  EDITOK'S  REMARK. 


254  LETTERS. 

first  instance  admit  orphans,  destitute  in  every  respect,  and 
then  children  of  honest,  industrious  people,  when  these 
have  fallen  into  misery  and  are  prevented  by  illness  from 
providing  for  all  their  children.  In  general,  these  parents 
can  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  be  prevailed  upon  to 
give  up  their  children.  In  most  instances  they  prefer  to 
starve  and  to  suffer  any  thing,  rather  than  to  part  with  their 
children. 

Meanwhile,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  greatest  number 
of  the  children  in  the  House  of  Refuge  come  from  the 
abodes  of  vice  and  recklessness.  An  important  question 
remains  therefore  always  to  be  put  to  the  House  of  Refuge 
(in  whatever  way  it  may  arrange  with  regard  to  the  chil- 
dren and  their  future),  namely :  does  it  not  encourage  reck- 
lessness and  indolence  ? 

In  reply  it  may  be  asked :  would  there  be  less  reckless- 
ness and  indolence  if  the  House  of  Refuge  did  not  exist? 
I  do  not  believe  this.  If  the  former  had  not  been  so  prev- 
alent throughout  society,  the  latter  would  not  have  been 
wanted  or  been  established.  But  this  question  has  roots 
lying  far  deeper.  What  else  is  the  House  of  Refuge  than 
a  branch  of  the  universal  tree  of  charity,  which  has  grown 
out  of  Christianity  ?  At  every  new  contrivance  for  the 
assistance  or  the  saving  of  mankind,  we  have  heard  the 
warning  repeated  to  us :  "  The  more  you  assist,  the  more 
you  call  forth  distress ;  the  more  zeal  you  manifest  to 
save,  the  more  you  encourage  recklessness,  and  weaken 
the  power  and  the  desire  of  people  to  help  themselves. 
Why  should  the  sinner  be  more  cared  for  than  the  just? 
By  this  lax  love  you  make  sin  abound."  All  this  seems 
to  be  true ;  the  dangers  pointed  at,  seem  to  be  a  natural 
consequence.  The  warners,  who  thus  complain,  we  find 
represented  in  the  gospel  in  the  brother  of  the  prodigal 
son,  at  whose  return  the  father  prepares  a  feast ;  and  also 
in  the  first  hour's  laborers  in  the  vineyard,  who  complain 
that  the  workers  of  the  eleventh  hour  receive  equal  wages 


LETTERS.  255 

with  those  "  which  have  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the 
day."  I  confess  that  this  complaint  always  troubles  my 
heart,  because  it  appears  to  me  to  be  so  reasonable,  but  the 
answer  which  they  receive,  to  be  less  so. 

Well  now :  either  Christ  is  wrong,  and  all  those  are  in  the 
wrong  who,  inspired  by  His  spirit,  have  preached  through 
the  world  with  words  and  deeds  His  helping  and  saving 
gospel,  or  the  matter  has  a  much  deeper  meaning,  and  un- 
der the  seeming  injustice  a  deeper  justice  is  hidden.  If  it 
is  so,  this  justice  must  also  develop  itself  to  a  higher  good, 
to  a  more  perfect  order,  founded  upon  the  highest  justice. 

And  what  we  see  now,  can  be  compared  to  the  pertur- 
bations which  Newton  discovered  with  anxiety  in  the  solar 
system,  but  which  was  in  reality  only  a  transition  to  that 
order,  where  every  thing  is  again  restored  to  its  proper  orbit 
and  place. 

If  we  contemplate  the  nature  of  the  world-evolution, 
which  Christianity  has  caused,  we  shall  find  that  it  consists 
in  a  sinking  down  of  the  higher  to  the  lower,  which  the 
higher  attracts,  after  having  filled  it  with  its  power,  its  life, 
—  that  it  consists  in  the  extension  of  the  participation  of 
all  mankind  in  all  the  gifts  of  heaven  and  of  earth  ;  the 
participation  of  all  in  the  same  bread  and  the  same  wine. 
Thus  the  phenomenon  of  the  regeneration  of  the  world 
manifests  itself,  even  in  our  days,  in  the  stir  of  the  political 
life  of  the  free,  living  nations,  amongst  which  we  with  pride 
can  number  our  own.  Here  the  question  is  of  a  deeper 
justice  than  the  outward,  more  common  one ;  here  the 
question  is  of  a  justice  founded  upon  a  great  love.  This 
love  wishes,  in  the  first  instance,  to  neutralize  every  injus- 
tice and  ruggedness  of  chance,  —  to  remedy  all  that  pre- 
vents mankind  to  stand  one  day  before  his  Creator  as  one 
perfect  man,  created  after  His  image,  and  in  whom  all  indi- 
viduals are  like  brothers  and  sisters,  like  children  of  one 
father.  This  love  of  mankind,  inspired  by  a  grand  idea, 
goes  therefore  forth  upon  its  divine  mission,  often  setting 


256  LETTERS. 

aside  ordinary  systems  of  justice,  regardless  of  its  contin- 
gent irregularities,  which  seem  to  be  the  consequences  of 
its  activity ;  for  this  love  knows  and  feels  within  itself  that 
it  alone  is  able,  in  accomplishing  its  orbit,  to  adjust  all  in  a 
higher  order ;  that  it  alone  can  ultimately  "  stop  the  evil  on 
earth." 

The  labors  of  love  manifest  themselves  herein  in  two  di- 
rections. The  one  has  for  aim  to  lighten  pain  ;  to  atone 
for  errors,  to  obviate  the  consequences  or  to  help  to  bear 
them :  the  other  aims  at  enlightening  the  understanding ; 
to  strengthen  knowledge,  and  to  encourage  by  conferring 
a  share  in  noble  privileges  and  duties.  Both  unite  in 
taking  an  active  part  in  ennobling  and  making  others 
happy.  When  the  more  favored  ones  on  earth  thus  lower 
themselves  to  the  destitute,  or  the  fallen,  they  must  neces- 
sarily eventually  communicate  to  them  the  mind  and  the 
power  which  they  possess  themselves,  and  in  thus  lowering 
themselves,  they  can  raise  their  fallen  brothers  to  the  step 
of  moral  worth  upon  which  they  themselves  are  standing, 
and  become  their  saviours  and  the  saviours  of  society.  The 
remedy  against  the  momentary  disorder,  therefore,  lies  in 
accomplishing  the  evolution,  not  in  restraining  it. 

If  now  all  this  should  be  so,  and  I  believe  it  is  so,  then 
do  not  let  us  fear  the  movements  which  originate  in  warm 
feelings,  in  devout  faith.  They  have  in  all  times  been  life's 
prophets  ;  they  hold  in  their  hand  the  divining-rod,  which 
points  out  life's  hidden  springs.  Let  them  become  free ; 
but  let  the  methodical  thought  follow  them  faithfully,  light 
them  on  their  way,  and  give  them  the  watchword  to  their 
presentiments.  Let  wisdom  guide  the  loving  will,  and 
point  out  the  way,  prudently  to  promote  the  good  cause. 

My  letter  has  unconsciously  swelled  into  a  treatise.  It 
would  frighten  me,  did  I  not  hope  that  my  kind  reader 
would  also  herein  see  my  earnest  wish  to  answer  his  ques- 
tions and  doubts  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 


LETTERS.  257 

TO    MR.   S.  H . 

STOCKHOLM,  16th  December,  1853. 

I  cannot  let  the  old  year  close  without  sending  you,  my 

young  friend  in my  thanks  for  your  letter  of  the 

15th  of  October,  together  with  my  warmest  congratulations 
on  your  betrothal  to  an  amiable  young  lady,  and  through  it 
to  your  near  connection  with  a  gentleman  so  estimable  and 

so  esteemed  as .  I  had  certainly  heard  this  betrothal 

already  mentioned  by  report,  but  the  confirmation  thereof 
reached  me  only  through  your  letter.  It  gave  me  sincere 
pleasure  to  hear  that  report  had  spoken  the  truth,  for  noth- 
ing is  so  beneficial,  nothing  so  develops  a  good,  noble- 
minded  young  man  and  contributes  to  settle  him,  as  his 
union  with  a  young  woman  of  genuine  female  worth. 

In  a  profound  and  divine  manner  two  such  natures  per- 
fect themselves  in  their  dependence  on  each  other,  while 
they  in  love  reflect  in  each  other  the  profound  and  the 
good  which  they  individually  possess,  revealing  treasures 
hitherto  hidden  to  themselves,  and  a  new  spiritual  life 
through  the  union  of  their  souls,  creating  a  reality  and  full- 
ness of  life  of  which  before  they  had  only  a  dim  presenti- 
ment, but  which  they  never  had  felt.  I  speak  here  only  of 
the  perfect  union  between  two  souls  in  love  or  in  friendship, 
for  these  two  come  very  near  each  other.  May  you  in  your 
wedlock  find  a  happiness  which  I  have  also  learnt  to  feel 
in  happy  and  sincere  friendship,  but  of  which  now  —  only 
the  memory  is  left.  Those  whom  I  have  thus  loved,  and 
by  whom  I  was  thus  loved  myself —  are  all  dead.  But  to 
have  thus  loved,  to  have  thus  lived,  is  an  unspeakable 
blessing.  We  know  then  what  heaven  is,  and  we  believe 
then  in  its  eternal  reality.  There  lives  then  in  our  heart, 
in  our  inmost  soul,  a  spot  perpetually  green,  where  fount- 
ains well  forth,  where  roses  are  blooming  —  a  peaceful 
oasis,  where  an  eternal  summer  is  reigning,  and  to  which 
we  can  fly  in  darker  moments  as  to  our  proper  home.  For 
17 


258  LETTERS. 

if  we  have  once  found  such  a  home  in  anothei  s  soul,  then 
every  thing  discordant  which  chanced  to  come  between  us, 
was  a  mere  fleeting  cloud  in  a  bright  sky  ;  if  we  once  have 
felt  such  a  deep  union  with  another  being  that  nothing  in 
the  world  could  shake  its  sincerity ;  if  we  have  felt  that  we 
belonged  to  one  another  eternally  from  a  deep,  divine 
necessity,  then  we  can  let  much  in  this  life  come  and  go  as 
it  will ;  can  lose  much,  suffer  much,  and  yet  be  tranquil, 
still  have  enough,  and  still  thank  God  for  immeasurable 
wealth  in  the  confidence  of  our  heart. 

May  it  be  thus  with  you  ! 

I  might  be  willing  to  accede  to  your  views,  relating  to  a 
new  legislation  with  respect  to  matrimony,1  if  you  could 
convince  me  that  the  children's  fate  would  thereby  become 
in  a  measure  as  much  secured,  or  that  it  would  not  be  more 
exposed  to  chance  and  to  neglect  than  is  now  the  case.  If 
we  contemplate  man,  such  as  he  is  in  general  on  earth  and 
in  society,  we  find  clearly  that  it  is  not  good  to  trust  to  his 
inspirations. 

Caprice  and  passion  play  too  prominent  a  part  therein  ; 
they  frequently  overrule  his  better  conscience,  and  would 
probably  do  this  effectually,  if  he  had  not  in  the  higher 
conscience  of  humanity,  and  in  the  laws  which  pronounce 
and  represent  the  same,  a  friendly  monitor  and  a  judge, 
who  prevent  him  from  becoming  the  slave  of  the  tyranny 
of  selfish  passions.  It  is  no  doubt  clear  that  the  judicial 
ties  in  matrimony  are  the  means  at  the  disposal  of  society 
for  protecting  the  life  and  the  future  of  the  weak  and  help- 
less (the  wife  and  children)  against  the  husband's  or  the 
parent's  neglect,  or  their  disregard  of  their  duties.  And 
the  interposition  of  the  clergyman,  in  the  name  of  the 
church  or  of  religion,  in  order  to  unite  man  or  woman,  is 
merely  the  visible  expression  of  the  inward  truth  and  aim 
which  alone  can  make  the  union  between  man  and  woman 

l  These  views  appear  to  have  referred  to  the  so-called  civil  marriage, 
without  the  cooperation  of  the  clergy  for  its  legal  institution. 


LETTERS.  259 

something  really  noble  and  sacred.  It  was  a  sacred  union 
previous  to  the  act  performed  by  the  clergyman ;  but  peo- 
ple would  either  not  consider  this,  or  forget  it,  if  the  Church 
did  not  give  to  the  inward  law  a  form  and  a  word  which 
express  its  sacredness,  and  become  a  tie  only  because  they 
represent  what  most  ought  to  unite  man  and  wife.  Geijer 
said  once :  "  Love  wants  to  be  backed  by  duty ; "  and 
another  time :  "  One  speaks  of  love  as  something  stag- 
nant, and  yet  no  love  can  be  imagined  without  metamor- 
phoses." Look  round  in  the  world,  and  ask  yourself  how 
many  men  would  continue  to  be  a  faithful  husband  and 
father,  if,  during  the  fluctuations  of  his  love,  he  had  not  a 
support  in  duty  and  in  public  moral  opinion  (the  offspring 
of  duty)  ;  if,  during  the  metamorphoses  of  his  life  of  love, 
a  sacred  law  did  not  lead  to  a  normal  development 

The  Society  of  Friends,  who  have  rejected  all  outward 
laws,  and  appeal  to  the  inward  law,  the  inner  voice,  as  the 
only  rule  of  conduct,  have  yet  presupposed  that  this  inner 
law  must  be  valid  for  all,  and  upon  it  they  found  their 
unions.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  weddings,  the  contracting 
parties  declare  before  the  congregation  that  they  purport 
living  together  as  husband  and  wife,  and  this  is  sufficient  to 
consecrate  the  marriage.  But  the  discipline  of  feelings,  of 
thoughts,  and  of  the  whole  course  of  life,  is  so  severe  from 
early  childhood  amongst  the  Society  of  Friends,  that  public 
opinion  is  more  binding  for  them  than  are  the  forms  of 
law  and  of  the  Church  for  us,  and  they  lead  with  them  to 
the  same  end.  That  persons  before  they  bring  children 
into  the  world  ought  well  to  weigh  the  importance  of  such 
a  step,  and  of  the  duties  which  belong  to  it,  this,  one  would 
think,  is  the  claim  of  sound  morality  and  of  experience. 
Therefore  also  it  is  that  one  gives  the  name  of  illegitimate 
to  the  union  which  disregards  this  higher  aim  of  marriage. 
That  the  children  should  suffer  for  this  as  illegitimate  is 
unjust  as  far  as  they  are  concerned,  but  how  can  this  be 
avoided  ?  It  is  the  fault  of  the  parents,  and  the  sins  of  the 


260  LETTERS. 

parents  must  always,  to  a  certain  degree,  be  visited  upon 
the  children.  Society  cannot  relinquish  its  idea  of  pure 
morality.  But  charity,  which  is  the  crown  of  society, 
adheres  less  severely  to  this  idea,  and  takes  therefore  the 
wronged  ones  in  its  supporting  arms.  This  is  done  every 
day,  partly  through  private  charities  and  partly  by  public 
wise  institutions. 

How  often,  in  the  present  time,  when  after  the  ravages 
of  the  cholera,  inquiries  have  been  made  into  the  condition 
of  the  children  of  the  poorer  classes,  have  not  fathers  been 
found,  who, have  shaken  off  every  care  of  their  offspring,  and 
who  have  succeeded  herein,  as  they  could  not  be  bound  to 
it  by  any  certificate  of  lawful  marriage.  Several  of  these 
abandoned  little  ones  have  been  taken  care  of  by  our 
"  Ladies'  Association."  But  you  will  one  day,  perhaps,  be 
yourself  a  father,  and  although  I  am  fully  aware  that  your 
heart  is  to  you  a  power  more  binding  than  all  outward 
legal  forms,  still,  in  looking  at  your  children,  you  may  prob- 
ably feel  yourself,  in  your  character  of  father,  also  in  the 
position  of  society  ;  and  you  will  then,  in  the  name  of  the 
parental  society,  demand  the  assistance  both  of  the  laws  and 
of  the  clergyman  in  order  to  secure  the  moral  and  economical 
guardianship  over  the  rising  generation.  If  this  guardian- 
ship could  be  extended  so  as  to  protect  also  the  innocent 
so-called  illegitimate  little  ones,  it  would  be  still  better. 

But  I  have  too  long  detained  you  on  this  subject.  I 
agree  fully  and  most  heartily  with  you  in  regard  to  the 
question  of  woman's  majority,  and  I  see  the  only  safe 
guarantee  for  a  better  future  of  the  rising  generation,  in 
woman's  moral  and  social  elevation  amongst  all  classes. 
My  remaining  days  shall  be  devoted  to  labor  for  this  end, 
as  far  as  in  my  power  lies.  In  the  second  and  third 
volume  of  my  work,  "  The  Homes  in  the  New  World," 
you  will  see  my  opinions  and  my  thoughts  on  this  subject. 

Christmas  is  at  the  door  with  its  darkness,  and  will  soon 
come  with  all  its  lights.  The  Stockholm  "  Ladies'  Associa- 


LETTERS.  261 

tion "  intends  during  this  festive  time  to  let  every  home, 
in  which  misery  and  death  have  been  guests  during  the 
epidemic,  shine,  in  the  name  of  the  great  Physician,  joy- 
ously and  more  richly  than  ever  before.  This  Association 
intends  likewise  to  distribute  books  for  children,  by  native 
authors,  and  will  try  to  edit  a  special  Swedish  child's  litera- 
ture. Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  send  you  next  Christmas 
a  budget  of  this  kind  of  literature  for  children,  for  a  little 
son  or  a  little  daughter  in  your  house. 

Hearty  wishes  of  joy  and  happiness,  and  all  good  this 
year  and  —  every  year  from  your  old  friend, 

FREDRIKA  BREMER. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

STOCKHOLM,  7th  February,  1864. 

It  is  high  time  that  I  should  thank  you  with  a  few  words 
for  your  friendly  letter,  and  especially  for  the  sincere  and 
warm  sympathy  which  you  manifest  for  the  condition  of  my 
sex.  You  say  that  many  an  unmarried,  middle-aged  woman 
would  have  a  fresher  and  purer  mind  if  she  had  a  child 
which  could  be  the  object  of  her  heart's  tender  care.  I 
must,  however,  dissent  from  your  opinion,  as  if  this  were  the 
sine  qua  non  for  her  soul's  purity  and  health,  and  I  beg  you 
will  now  believe  a  true  womanly  nature  who  could  have 
loved  husband  and  child  devotedly,  and  yet  voluntarily 
renounced  the  same,  and  who  has  since  without  them 
enjoyed  the  fullness  and  richness  of  her  existence,  aye, 
enjoys  them  at  this  moment,  with  a  freedom,  a  joy,  which 
not  always  falls  to  the  lot  of  every  wife  and  mother. 

But  if  this  happiness  were  egotistical,  I  would  not  speak 
of  it  "  He,  who  does  not  love,  knows  not  God."  The 
life  of  the  unmarried  or  childless  woman  has  its  own  tempta- 
tions and  sorrows,  but  many  of  these  arise  (at  any  rate 
in  regard  to  their  power  over  her)  from  the  one-sided  and 
false  direction  of  her  education  and  of  the  literature  which 
she  feeds  upon,  and  which  refers  her  almost  exclusively,  in 


262  LETTERS. 

order  to  gain  happiness  and  position,  to  the  married  state 
and  to  the  dignity  of  mother. 

Besides,  the  slavery  under  which  the  unmarried  woman 
labors,  in  consequence  of  public  opinion  and  the  law,  is, 
to  a  great  extent,  the  cause  of  her  want  of  moral  and  phys- 
ical health,  her  want  of  ability  and  happiness.  And  may 
God  bless  you  with  a  beautiful  and  lovable  daughter  for 
"  couching  your  lance "  in  defense  of  the  cause  of  the 
enchained ! 

But  look,  even  at  the  present  time,  at  an  unmarried 
woman,  past  the  first  bloom  of  youth,  with  some  degree  of 
liberty  and  a  little  property  of  her  own,  with  a  good  heart 
and  a  good  head.  I  should  like  to  show  you  some  such 
women  amongst  our  towns-women,  active  on  behalf  of  the 
poor,  and  you  would  find  a  freshness  and  aptitude,  a  joyous 
life,  bearing  witness  of  a  far  happier  existence  than  that  of 
many  a  married  woman  with  a  quarrelsome  or  careless  hus- 
band and  with  perhaps  several  children,  which  she  has  to 
provide  for  under  anxieties  and  cares.  Yes,  if  women  really 
knew,  previous  to  their  marriage,  all  the  troubles  and  all  the 
anxiety  which  the  children  often  cause,  then  many  a  one 
would  think  twice  before  she  attempted  such  a  venture.  At 
any  rate  they  would,  more  than  now  too  often  is  the  case, 
be  careful  to  give  their  heart  and  hand  only  to  a  man  who 
could  be  a  support  and  assistance  to  them  in  life's  more 
serious  situations. 

There  is  also  a  higher  aspiration  which  does  not  unfre- 
quently  arise,  when  a  young  woman  does  not  give  way  to 
an  inclination  so  natural  at  her  age,  of  concluding  a  matri- 
monial alliance,  which  aspiration  in  Catholic  countries  finds 
a  more  beautiful  sphere  of  activity  and  life  than  in  our 
country.  The  warm  feeling,  turned  away  from  seeking 
response  and  fullness  in  earthly,  turns  frequently  to  heavenly 
objects,  and  finds  in  its  communion  with  and  in  its  life  in 
them  a  perfection,  which  every-day  life  could  never  so 
have  given.  Believe  me :  there  are  delights,  ecstasies,  un- 


LETTERS.  263 

speakable  happiness  in  lonely  hearts,  shedding  brightness 
over  existence,  over  earthly  and  heavenly  things,  over  the 
present  and  the  future,  making  the  heart  burn  with  love 
and  praise.  But  of  these  joys,  the  purest,  warmest  mo- 
ments of  love,  of  loving  hearts  —  moments  when  tears  drop 
upon  smiling  lips,  and  one  desires  nothing  more  than  to 
sacrifice  one's  self  in  order  to  prove  one's  faith  and  love  — 
give  an  idea.  But  these  blooming  moments  in  man's  life 
become  shorter  and  shorter  with  advancing  years.  Some- 
thing worldly  adheres  to  them,  dragging  them  down  to 
earth  or  arresting  their  pinions.  Like  the  Sylphide,  in  the 
ballet  of  the  same  name,  the  wings  fall  off  and  they  die 
smothered  in  reality's  cold  embrace.  What  of  this  human 
Psyche  can  liberate  itself  from  this  embrace,  gains  new 
life  with  immortal  wings  and  with  rays  which  are  not  ex- 
tinguished ;  it  belongs  not  to  a  natural,  but  to  a  supernatural 
love.  Happy  they  who  in  wedlock  are  able  to  develop  and 
to  preserve  this  latter.  Then  love  is  "  born  of  God."  If 
you  wish  to  see  what  woman's  life  of  love  can  be,  you  must 
read  "  Les  Confessions  de  St.  Therese  "  and  then  ask  your- 
self how  many  happy  lovers  in  their  earthly  circumstances 
can  speak  of  such  joys  in  such  terms.  And  those  joys  — they 
are  not  dependent  on  contingencies  ;  they  are  full  of  hope 
and  promise,  and  presentiment  of  eternal  life  ;  they  do  not 
wane,  but  become  rather  more  intense  with  advancing 
age. 

What  our  unmarried  women,  both  young  and  old  in 
Sweden,  are  still  much  in  need  of  in  general,  is  freedom, 
and  full  consciousness  of  its  value,  and  of  their  own  capa- 
bility of  turning  the  same  to  practical  account.  A  noble 
independence,  self-reliance,  and  trust  in  God,  constitute  the 
first  condition  for  all  higher  development  and  happiness. 

In  every  thing  which  I  have  written,  I  have  labored  for 
this ;  but  I  hope  that  before  I  die  my  labor  shall  leave  a 
more  complete  result.  Henceforth  I  shall  more  concen- 
trate my  powers ;  more  exclusively  live  for  this  aim. 


264  LETTERS. 

Thanks  for  the  little  beautiful  sketch  of  your  home-life 

at  S o  !     How  glad  I  am  for  your  sake,  at  your  alliance 

with  this  family,  which  assuredly  will  give  your  pure  and 
good  heart  just  what  it  wanted,  to  live  rightly  and  actively 
in  your  home  as  well  as  in  society. 


My  favorite  study  now  is  the  works  of  the  Swiss,  A. 
Vinet.  He  is  a  Christian  Emerson,  high-minded  like  him 
in  the  worship  of  truth  and  spiritual  liberty,  but  greater  in 
his  induction  ;  and  in  his  deduction,  greater  in  humility, 
more  perfect  in  every  way,  and  to  me  he  is  one  of  the  most 
valuable  acquaintances  amongst  the  literature  of  later 
days. 

Your  friend, 

FREDRIKA  BREMER. 

TO  THE  COUNTESS  LOTTEN  VON  R . 

ARSTA,  4th  September,  1864. 

I  write  to  you  to-day  from  my  ancestral  hall  and  home, 
where  I  have  not  resided  since  about  ten  years  ago,  when 
it  passed  into  the  hands  of  another  owner.  Previous  to 
that  time,  I  had  with  the  exception  of  the  several  years  I 
spent  in  Norway,  Denmark,  and  America,  passed  the 
greater  part  of  my  life  here,  rarely  satisfied,  never  happy, 
except  at  those  times  when  I  was  permitted  to  stay  here 
alone  ;  in  my  youth  longing  to  get  away  from  here,  out  into 
the  great  stirring,  ever-changing  world ;  away  from  the 
monastic  solitude  of  Arsta,  where  my  whole  life  was  spent 
in  my  inner  dream-world,  and  in  the  gleams  of  light  which 
books  and  the  restless  workings  of  my  brain  occasionally 
shed  over  the  same  ;  but  never  receiving  any  satisfactory 
answers  to  my  heaven-storming  questions.  It  has  appeared 
strange  to  me,  now  in  my  old  age  (I  have  lately  completed 
my  sixty-third  year),  to  be  again  for  a  few  quiet  weeks  in 
this  house,  and  to  look  back  from  my  observatory  in  the 


LETTERS.  265 

large,  secluded  rooms  of  the  upper  story,  upon  my  path  in 
life,  and  upon  what  I  have  gained  and  found  in  it. 

You,  who  like  to  contemplate  human  life  in  the  light  of 
God's  love,  you  will  hear  with  pleasure  that  these  weeks 
have  been  to  me  a  continual  feast  of  thanksgiving ;  a  re- 
joicing at  the  belief  with  which  my  own  course  of  life  has 
inspired  me,  in  an  all-guiding,  loving  Providence,  although 
for  the  greater  number  of  human  beings  it  is  not  revealed 
during  this  mortal  life ;  a  thanksgiving  for  the  days  of  suf- 
fering and  strife  in  the  dark,  which  absorbed  my  soul  and 
gave  to  its  chaotic  powers  unity  in  their  direction  ;  thanks- 
giving for  the  grace,  which  when  the  time  had  arrived,  let. 
the  caterpillar's  life  change,  and  the  butterfly  burst  its 
fettering  chrysalis,  or,  to  speak  without  allegory  —  let  me 
find  God  in  Christ,  and  in  Him  an  answer  to  all  my  ques- 
tions ;  comfort  in  my  afflictions ;  hope  for  all  who  were 
seeking  and  suffering,  for  all  who  were  sighing  and  strug- 
gling ;  and  then  to  see  earth,  its  nations  and  generations 
in  the  light  of  this  glorifying,  paternal  Providence,  this 
Redeemer  and  Accomplisher.  How  often,  during  this 
time,  have  I  not  in  grateful  joy  repeated  those  words  of 
Scripture,  which  I  wish  to  have  one  day  written  on  my 
grave,  thence  to  speak  to  all  mankind  :  "  When  I  called 
upon  the  Lord,  He  delivered  me  out  of  all  my  trouble." 

Something  in  the  state  of  my  body  and  soul  tells  me 
that  my  actual  working-days  are  over,  that  I  now  may  have 
rest,  at  any  rate  comparatively,  and  that  my  labor  hence- 
forth must  be  more  inward  than  outward.  And  also  this 
is  a  pleasant  feeling.  The  amiable  patriarchal  family,  to 
whom  my  former  home  now  belongs,  and  which  lets  me 
feel  as  if  it  still  were  mine,  enables  me  here  to  find  the 
quiet  of  my  old  age,  a  peaceful  home  after  life's  restless 
journey.  In  about  a  week's  time  I  return  to  Stockholm  to 
spend  the  winter.  There  I  hope  to  receive  a  few  lines 
from  you,  my  dear  Lotten. 


266  LETTERS. 

STOCKHOLM,  13th  October,  1864. 

God's  gifts  to  us,  and  His  ways  with  us,  are  various. 
Me  He  has  led,  by  the  unconquerable  longing  and  desire 
of  thought,  to  coherence  and  harmony  ;  to  an  insight  into 
His  manifestation  in  Christ,  and  its  all-explaining  light. 
Through  doubt  and  through  struggles  He  has  led  me  to 
certainty  and  peace,  and  from  one  light  on  to  another. 

That,  while  striving  to  find  the  precious  pearl,  of  which 
our  Saviour  speaks,  much  of  its  shell,  which  to  many  is 
identical  with  the  pearl  itself,  should  have  assumed  another 
signification  than  strict  orthodoxy  admits  —  and  that  many 
of  the  dogmas  of  the  Church  should  have  taken  another 
meaning  than  the  strictly  literal  one  —  this  I  could  not 
help.  Without  it  I  should  not  have  discovered  the  treas- 
ure, the  pearl  —  the  word  of  eternal  life  in  Christ ;  nor 
should  I,  without  it,  in  the  midst  of  the  conflict  which  is 
now  going  on  in  the  world,  and  which  is  carried  on  in 
newspapers  and  in  innumerable  periodicals,  against  the 
more  profound  Christianity  and  its  most  substantial  and 
consolatory  doctrines,  have  felt  so  happy,  so  confident,  so 
certain,  that  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  antiquated  Church,  a 
new  one,  more  real  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  shall  arise ;  when 
also  I  shall  be  prepared  to  bear  witness  in  her  favor,  and 
show  that  the  most  profound  Christianity  is  the  highest 
reason,  yes,  is  the  most  undeviable  right  of  reason  as  well 
as  of  sense  and  of  conscience.  Man,  nowadays,  is  not 
helped  with  devout  confessions,  unless  these,  at  the  same 
time,  contain  light  for  the  thinking  spirit. 

The  religious  fermentation  of  the  present  day  is  nothing 
else  than  the  struggle  of  reason  and  thought  to  penetrate 
to  God.  When  they  have  arrived  there,  they  shall  worship 
and  sing  praises  to  the  Lord,  and  then  the  first  command- 
ment shall  be  fulfilled,  that  which  tells  man  :  "  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord,  thy  God,  with  all  thy  heart  and  with  all  thy 
soul  and  with  all  thy  mind,"  that  is,  with  all  thy  power. 

My  remaining  days  shall  be  devoted  to  praising  the  Lord 


LETTERS.  267 

with  all  the  strength  which  He  has  given  me  in  this  strug 
gle,  for  which  he  has  prepared  me.  His  Spirit  will  show 
me  the  manner  and  the  time. 

With  child-like  love  and  confidence  I  shall  follow  His 
guidance.  The  peace  and  happiness  which  I  have  enjoyed 
during  the  past  summer,  spent  in  the  home  of  my  childhood 
and  youth,  are  deeply  connected  with  and  have  their  roots 
in,  the  presentiment  that  here,  where  my  life  developed  its 
first  buds  in  happiness  and  in  affliction,  it  will  produce  its 
last,  and  I  hope  with  God's  help,  its  ripest  fruit, 

AESTA,  20th  September,  1865. 

Well  may  the  devout  who  rest  upon  the  heart  of  Christ, 
"thank  God  that  they  do  not  feel  the  desire  to  inquire  into 
those  things  which  God  has  hidden  from  us,  and  which 
shall  never  be  made  clear  to  us  on  this  side  of  the  grave  ; " 
for  they  rest  safely  in  His  love ;  but  they  whom  God  has 
called  to  combat  with  the  weapons  of  thought  for  light,  and 
against  darkness  and  shadows  ;  to  distinguish  between  what 
is  divine  and  what  is  human;  they  who  believe  with  St. 
Paul,  that  "  the  spirit  searcheth  all  things,  yea,  the  deep 
things  of  God,"  and  that  man  can  and  shall,  step  by  step, 
be  brought  to  love  and  praise  God  "  with  all  his  heart,  with 
all  his  soul  and  with  all  his  mind"  (or  thoughts),  with  all 
his  powers,  and  therefore  also  with  all  the  strength  of  the 
intellect  and  reason  with  which  He  has  endowed  him ; 
also  they  can  thank  Him  that  they  have  got  a  talent  to  de- 
vote to  His  service  and  to  His  glorification. 


SKETCHES. 


MY  DREAM. 

I  HAD  last  night  a  strange  dream.  I  fancied  that  I  was 
in  Stockholm.  It  was  evening.  I  was  expecting  visitors  : 
I  was  just  going  to  dress  to  receive  them,  and  I  went  for 
this  purpose  through  the  dining-room,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  my  good  old  friend  Eric  Reuterborg  entered, 
elegantly  dressed,  his  hair  speckled  with  gray,  curled  in  a 
toupet  on  the  forehead  exactly  as  when  he  was  alive.  I 
became  alarmed,  for  I  was  well  aware  that  he  had  been 
dead  three  years.  But  I  was  pleased,  nevertheless,  for  the 
thought  suddenly  crossed  my  brain  —  think  if  he  is  not 
really  dead !  and  doubtful  and  astonished,  I  went  to  meet 
him,  asking :  "  Is  it  possible  !  Are  you  not  —  "  "  Reuter- 
borg? "  he  answered  in  a  friendly  and  cheerful  tone ;  "  yes, 
it  is." 

An  indescribable  feeling  of  awe  seized  me,  while  we 
went  into  the  drawing-room  together.  I  remembered 

O  O 

having  seen  him  in  his  coffin  ;  remembered  the  cold,  sad 
expression  in  his  face  which  had  succeeded  that  of  kindness 
and  open-heartedness ;  remembered  how  I  had  placed 
flowers  at  his  feet,  and  put  hyacinths  in  his  cold,  bluish 
hand,  which  drooped  their  heads  upon  his  breast;  and 
afterwards  I  had  planted  flowers  upon  his  grave.  Yes,  he 
was  indeed  dead,  and  that  which  I  now  beheld  was  his 
ghost.  While  these  memories  passed  before  me,  I  stared 
at  the  form  which  now  stood  beside  me,  and  I  drew  timidly 
back  while  I  said  :  "But  how  —  how  is  it  possible  ?  " 


SKETCHES.  269 

At  the  same  moment  his  face,  until  now  so  friendly  and 
calm,  became  troubled,  looked  disturbed,  and  he  also  drew 
back,  became  shadowy  and  dim.  Then  the  fear  seized  me 
that  he  would  in  this  way  leave  me.  I  summoned  up  my 
courage  ;  approached  him  again  ;  called  him  by  endearing 
names  ;  begged  him  to  be  heartily  welcome,  and  expressed 
my  great  delight  at  seeing  him  again.  He  now  grew  brighter ; 
came  closer  up  to  me,  and  looked  more  and  more  friendly 
and  radiant,  yet  not  in  a  supernatural  manner.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  we  were  both  playing  a  part  with  each  other ; 
that  he  wanted  to  make  me  believe  that  he  was  not  dead  ; 
just  as  I  did  not  wish  him  to  observe  that  I  looked  upon 
him  as  having  come  from  the  other  world.  Meanwhile  I 
felt  an  indescribable  longing  to  ask  him  how  it  was  there, 
and  whether  he  was  happy ;  but  I  was  prevented  by  I  do 
not  know  what  kind  of  fear.  He  looked  heartily  pleased 
and  friendly.  I  said :  — 

"  You  will  stay  with  me  this  evening,  my  dear  Reuter- 
borg  ?  " 

I  said  this,  as  if  to  try  him. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  must  go  to  some  place  and  read  the 
newspapers." 

Half  jocularly  I  then  said  :  — 

"  Well,  well,  you  read  the  newspapers  beside  God  him- 
self. That  is  surely  a  good  place,  and  there  you  can  learn 
much." 

He  only  smiled,  and  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  it  was 
rather  cunning  of  him  to  want  to  make  himself  so  living 
and  worldly. 

" But,"  I  went  on  to  say,  "as  you  will  not  stay  with  me, 
then  tell  me,  Reuterborg,  when  shall  I  come  to  you  in  your 
home  ?  How  old  shall  I  be  on  earth  ?  " 

He  looked  upwards  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  medi- 
tatingly,  but  very  decidedly :  — 

"  You  shall  be  sixty-six  years  and  two  months  old." 

"  So  old  ?"  I  said, "  I  must  then  live  still  a  long  time  here 
on  earth ;  but  God's  will  be  done." 


270  SKETCHES. 

At  this  moment  I  awoke,  with  a  vivid  consciousness  of 
having  learnt  the  time  of  my  death.  I  am  now  forty-five 
years  old.  Consequently  twenty-one  years  more.  May 
God  in  me  accomplish  the  work  which  may  have  been  given 
me  to  execute. 

AESTA,  23d  March,  1847. 

A  VISION. 

I  SAW  a  throne  standing  in  a  bright  shining  light,  and 
from  the  face  of  Him  who  sat  upon  the  throne,  there  ema- 
nated a   radiance   which   filled   and   glorified   all   things. 
Hosts  of  seraphs  and   cherubs  surrounded  Him,  turning 
their  faces  alternately  to  Him  and  towards  infinite  space 
before  them,  which  resembled  a  boundless  ocean  of  clouds. 
It  seemed  as  if  they  were  expecting  something. 

"  What  is  it  that  is  going  to  happen  ?  "  I  asked  an  angel 
who  stood  near  me. 

"  Dost  thou  not  know,"  he  answered,  "  that  the  Lord  to- 
day will  try  the  spirit  of  the  peoples  of  the  earth  ?  They 
shall  be  called  before  Him  and  receive  their  reward  or 
punishment,  according  to  how  they  have  fulfilled  their 
charge." 

And  now  I  heard  a  voice,  mighty  as  thunder,  exclaim  :  — 

II  Arise,  thou  the  oldest  amongst  the  Northern  nations  ! 
Arise  before  thy  Lord !  " 

And  out  of  the  boundless  ocean  of  clouds  I  saw  a  shape 
rise  like  a  woman's,  with  noble,  earnest  features,  with  a 
clear,  frank  eye.  A  plain  white  robe,  white  as  snow,  fell 
in  soft  folds  around  her  strong,  but  classical  figure  ;  on  her 
forehead  the  Northern  star  shone  with  mild  lustre,  and  as 
she  approached  nearer  the  throne,  her  face  looked  younger 
and  more  beautiful  in  the  light  which  was  streaming  from 
it.  I  heard  a  chorus  of  innumerable  voices  sing  thus :  — 

"  Struggling  with  want,  she  has  nursed  her  children  ; 
but  honestly  has  she  combated.  Her  liberty  she  has  de- 
fended with  her  strong  arm,  and  at  the  sound  of  the 


SKETCHES.  271 

eternal  Redeemer's  voice  she  banished  thralldom  from  her 
free  soil.  Herself  free,  she  drew  her  good  sword  and  shed 
her  blood  for  the  cause  of  the  oppressed.  Therefore  her 
faults  shall  be  forgiven  her,  and  strength  shall  be  given  to 
her  to  combat  her  evil  spirits,  and  power  to  proclaim  the 
gospel  of  liberty  in  the  name  of  eternal  laws.  Fear  not, 
thou  little  nation  !  it  is  thy  Lord's  will  to  exalt  thee  above 
many  wealthy  and  great  nations.  Approach  to  receive 
thy  Father's  blessing  !  " 

Adoring,  she  bowed  before  the  Eternal.  Golden  clouds 
enveloped  her,  and  harps  resounded.  I  covered  my  dazzled 
eyes  ;  but  they  shed  tears  of  bliss,  for  the  blessed  one,  — 
she  was  my  mother. 

When  I  again  looked  up,  I  beheld  once  more  the 
heavenly  legions  in  endless  space,  and  another  form  rose 
resplendent  out  of  the  ocean  of  clouds.  Stately  was  she, 
and  beautiful  as  a  queen ;  her  raiment  shone  with  gold, 
but  the  traces  of  dark  passions  had  marked  her  features 
and  overshadowed  her  forehead.  But  still  her  glance  was 
steady  and  open,  as  if  conscious  of  something  great.  She 
looked  calmly  up  to  the  throne,  adoring  whilst  she  ap- 
proached it 

The  heavenly  chorus  sang :  — 

"  Great  have  been  her  sins,  but  she  has  abjured  them  at 
the  feet  of  the  Holy  One.  She  has  raised  the  banner  of 
Him  who  proceeded  out  of  the  bosom  of  Divinity,  to  say  to 
earth's  children :  '  Ye  are  all  brethren,  and  God  is  your 
father  ! "  She  has  burst  the  chains  of  her  prisoners,  and 
works  of  love  have  effaced  the  traces  of  cruelty.  Therefore 
shall  her  sins  be  forgiven  her,  and  she  shall  live  to  see 
many  glorious  days,  and  proceed  from  one  brightness  to 
another ! " 

And  whilst  they  thus  sang  and  she  advanced  towards  the 
throne,  her  face  became  glorified  by  the  brightness  which 
she  was  approaching,  and  the  furrows  on  her  forehead  be- 
came like  streaks  of  light. 


272  SKETCHES. 

After  a  Avhile  I  heard  again  the  voice  crying  aloud  :  — 

"  Thou,  the  youngest  of  the  great  nations  of  earth  ;  thou 
messenger  of  the  Lord's  latest,  last  word  to  humanity ! 
arise  !  come  before  thy  Judge." 

And  I  beheld  something  like  a  green  mount  rise  out  of 
the  ocean  of  clouds,  and  on  it  stood  a  figure  —  oh,  how 
glorious !  Youth  and  beauty  and  strength  marked  her 
whole  being ;  the  rosy  morn  of  hope  glowed  upon  her 
cheeks  and  in  her  beautiful  and  joyous  glance.  On  her 
fresh  lips  the  words  of  life  seemed  to  lie.  Rich  and  splen- 
did raiments  infolded  the  youthful  and  vigorous  form.  On 
her  head  she  wore  a  diadem  of  twenty-six  stars,  glittering, 
with  various  light.  With  her  right  hand  she  raised  a  ban- 
ner which  the  wind  unfurled,  and  on  which  stood  written  : 
"  Liberty" 

She  was  so  beautiful  that  I  felt  spell-bound  before  her, 
and  I  called  her  in  my  heart,  Earth's  hope.  And  the 
heavenly  hosts  and  the  spirits  of  Earth's  nations  turned 
eagerly  their  eyes  upon  her. 

The  celestial  voices  sang  sweetly  :  — 

"  Step  before  thy  Creator,  thou  young,  thou  highly 
gifted,  thou,  the  youngest  and  most  beautiful  of  His 
daughters ! " 

And  she  advanced,  not  straight  forward,  but  in  an  ob- 
lique direction,  seemingly  not  aware  of  it  herself.  She 
stumbled  now  and  then,  and  her  face  wore  an  expression  of 
uneasiness  and  embarrassment.  Surprised,  I  looked  at  her 
attentively,  and  beheld  her  ankle  encircled  by  a  golden 
chain,  the  other  end  of  which  was  bound  on  to  the  arm  of  a 
negro,  who  walked  a  few  steps  behind  her  and  who  seemed 
to  be  her  servant. 

Also,  he  moved  along,  but  half  asleep  and  listlessly.  He 
was  unconsciously  approaching  the  edge  of  a  frightful  preci- 
pice, at  the  foot  of  which,  dragons,  snakes,  and  slime-cov- 
ered monsters  of  the  deep,  with  horrible  shapes,  were  crawl- 
ing about. 


SKETCHES.  273 

His  beautiful  mistress  followed,  apparently  without  know- 
ing whither  her  slave  was  dragging  her,  and  I  saw  the 
moment  approaching  when  both  were  to  be  hurled  over 
the  precipice.  I  shuddered,  and  was  on  the  point  of  cry- 
ing out  aloud,  when  I  heard  the  heavenly  chorus  sound 
like  thunder  through  space  :  — 

"  Awake  !  unhappy  one,  awake !  see  thy  thralldom,  thy 
danger.  Give  liberty  and  be  thyself  free.  Let  the  word 
whose  banner  thou  earnest,  become  a  truth.  Else  thou 
shalt  perish  in  thy  falsehood  !  " 

The  light  vanished  from  heaven,  and  clouds,  like  floods 
of  tears,  lowered  before  the  throne. 

And  the  heavenly  chorus  sang :  — 

"  When  He  turns  away  His  face,  then  darkness  conies 
over  the  nations  of  the  earth.  When  He  takes  His  spirit 
away,  then  they  perish  and  return  again  to  dust !  " 

Then  all  was  silent,  so  silent  and  hushed  as  when  the 
breath  is  held  back  in  anxious  expectation  of  what  is  going 
to  happen. 

My  heart  trembled.  It  asked :  "  Will  she  be  saved  and 
rise  ?  or  will  she  fall  in  the  sight  of  the  Eternal  ? "  In- 
quiringly my  looks  were  turned  towards  space,  seeking  her, 
but  then  —  my  vision  vanished. 

A  VIOLET. 

FOUND   IN   STOCKHOLM   IN   1827. 

"  WHO  could  ever  have  expected  to  find  so  much  virtue, 
walking  between  two  milk-pails !  "  exclaimed  my  friend,  Dr. 

S ,  on  entering  my  room  one  warm  August  evening ; 

and,  sitting  down  almost  exhausted,  he  wiped  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  forehead.  I  asked  for  an  explanation  of  these 
words,  which  appeared  to  me  rather  extraordinary,  when 
he  related  the  following  siory :  — 

"  You  must  know,  my  friend,  that  I  have  made  acquaint- 
ance with  a  person  in  a  house  nearly  opposite  mine  — 
yes,  a  nice  acquaintance  with  an  old  woman,  who  for  more 
18 


274  SKETCHES. 

than  ten  years  has  served  me  with  milk  and  cream  twice  a 
week.  During  all  this  time  she  has  come  and  gone,  quietly, 
neatly  dressed,  and  honest,  with  a  deep  curtsey,  a  '  good 
morning ! '  and  '  many  thanks,'  without  my  ever  thinking  of 
looking  upon  her  otherwise  than  as  an  old  regular  piece  of 
clock-work,  which  strikes  the  hours  at  certain  intervals  of 
time,  or  as  one  of  those  kind  of  people  who  live,  they  do 
not  know  precisely  why ;  who  walk  through  life  without 
knowing  wherefore ;  and  who  yet  from  morning  till  noon, 
from  noon  until  night,  after  all,  manage  better  than  those 
who  know  infinitely  more.  Last  week,  during  two  milk- 
days,  for  the  first  time  she  did  not  make  her  appearance. 
I  began  to  wonder  whether  my  good  old  clock-work  had 
stopped  for  ever,  and  was  just  going  to  see  what  was  the 
matter  with  it,  when  this  morning  a  boy  about  ten  years 
old  called  upon  me,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  besought  me 
to  come  and  see  his  '  dear  Nanna,'  who  was  very  ill.  I 
accompanied  the  boy  across  the  street  to  the  house  where 
my  milk-woman  lived,  and  was  shown  into  a  clean,  but 
poor-looking  room,  where  I  found  my  old  acquaintance 
lying  on  a  straw  pallet,  and  to  all  appearance  in  a  bad  state. 
A  well-dressed  lady,  between  twenty  and  thirty  years  of 
age,  with  pleasant,  but  extremely  delicate  features,  was  sit- 
ting beside  her,  holding  the  old  woman's  hand  in  hers.  A 
young  girl  was  lying  weeping  upon  her  knees  before  her. 
She  seemed  to  be  of  nearly  the  same  age  as  the  boy,  who 
was  her  brother.  I  was  a  little  astonished  at  what  I  saw, 
but  as  I  do  not  like  superfluous  questions,  I  merely  inquired 
into  the  old  woman's  state  of  health.  She  had  not  much 
strength  herself  to  speak,  but  the  lady  tried,  evidently  with 
deep  emotion,  to  describe  her  malady.  I  prescribed  some- 
thing ;  spoke,  according  to  my  habit,  not  many  words,  and 
took,  in  going  through  the  door,  a  pinch  of  snuff,  much 
doubting  in  my  own  mind  the  efficacy  of  the  medicines  in 
a  creature  whom  old  age,  poverty,  and  disease,  were  hurry- 
ing to  the  grave.  '  And  if/  I  thought  to  myself,  '  I  should 


SKETCHES.  275 

even  be  able  to  save  her  this  time,  it  would,  after  all,  per- 
haps be  of  little  benefit  to  her.  To  walk  about  with  falter- 
ing steps  a  few  years  longer,  borne  down  by  care,  in  order 
to  earn  a  miserable  crust  of  dry  bread,  and  then  to  die  upon 
a  straw  pallet,  is  surely  not  worth  a  rhubarb-powder.  To 
the  old  and  destitute  death  is  a  solacing  angel  in  whose 
way  we  doctors  ought  not  to  stand.  Our  physic  serves  fre- 
quently nothing  else  than  to  make  the  poor  patient  again 
taste,  what  to  him  is  more  bitter  than  any  medicine  — 
life.'  During  this  soliloquy,  I  stood  still  on  the  landing, 
pulling  down  a  spider's  web  with  my  walking-stick,  and  lib- 
erating two  agonized  flies  that  showed  their  gratitude  by 
buzzing  round  my  nose  for  nearly  half  an  hour. 

"I  now  observed  that  the  lady  had  followed  me.  'My 
dear  doctor,'  she  said  with  a  quivering  voice,  clasping  her 
hands  together,  'excuse  me  —  but — if  you  knew  what  a 
life  is  in  jeopardy  —  you  would  exert  all  your  skill ;  you 
would  do  every  thing  in  your  power  to  save  it.'  '  A  human 
life,  madam,'  I  answered,  '  is  always  valuable  ;  my  science 
is  not  omnipotent,  but  my  exertions  are  the  same  for  all.' 
She  looked  as  if  she  did  not  quite  believe  me,  and  in  truth 
I  felt  some  small  stings  of  conscience  ;  I  muttered  a  few 
words  that  it  would  interest  me  to  hear  something  more 
concerning  the  invalid.  The  lady  opened  a  door  on  the 
opposite  side,  saying  in  a  steadier  voice  :  '  Please  to  walk 
in  a  moment,  you  will  not  repent  it ;  I  will  make  you  ac- 
quainted with  your  patient's  character,  and  you  will  then, 
perhaps,  think  of  some  other  treatment.' 

"  She  led  me  into  a  small,  well-furnished  room,  and  thence 
into  another  one,  where  even  a  certain  elegance  was  pre- 
vailing. '  Look  around  you,  Doctor,'  she  said,  '  these 
rooms,  every  thing  that  is  in  them,  every  chair,  every  cush- 
ion, yes,  my  own  and  my  two  children's  clothes,  are  presents 
from  the  poor  old  woman,  who  you  but  now  saw  lying  upon 
straw.'  Tears  glittered  in  the  lady's  eyes.  Roused  out  of 
my  phlegmatic  trance,  I  asked  her  anxiously  for  some  further 


276  SKETCHES. 

information.  We  sat  down,  and  in  a  voice  which  often 
vainly  strove  to  be  firm,  she  continued :  '  My  old  good 
Nanna  was  a  servant  in  my  parents'  house,  and  entered 
into  my  service  when  I  married.  My  husband  and  myself 
possessed  but  little,  but  it  was  enough.  He  allowed  him- 
self to  be  persuaded  to  become  security  for  one  of  his 
friends,  was  deceived,  and  we  lost  our  all.  Broken  down 
with  grief,  after  two  years'  illness,  he  died,  leaving  me  in 
deep  affliction,  with  two  very  young  children,  and  with  debts 
which  I  found  it  impossible  to  discharge.  In  consequence 
of  grief  and  want  of  sleep,  I  had  became  very  sickly,  and 
should  certainly  have  perished  in  misery  with  my  children, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  my  Nanna.  Already  during  my  hus- 
band's last  illness,  when  she  saw  that  the  little  which  we  had 
left  did  not  by  far  suffice  for  our  housekeeping,  and  for  the 
extra  expenses  which  his  state  of  health  made  indispensa- 
ble, she  undertook,  without  our  knowledge,  to  sell  milk, 
and  what  she  earnt  in  that  way,  she  employed  for  our  ben- 
efit. After  the  death  of  my  good  husband,  when  I  was 
incapacitated  from  illness  to  do  any  thing,  she  entirely  pro- 
vided for  me  and  for  my  poor  children.  She  worked  like  a 
slave  all  day  long,  and  often  in  my  sleepless  nights  I  heard 
the  whirring  of  her  spinning-wheel  in  the  next  room,  or  I 
saw,  through  a  chink  in  the  door,  the  light  of  her  candle  at 
which  she  sat  working  for  my  little  ones  and  their  poor 
mother.  Her  indefatigable  industry  procured  for  us  by 
degrees  better  food,  better  clothing,  and  good  lodgings ;  her 
milk-trade  gradually  became  more  lucrative  as  she  became 
more  known  ;  but  all,  all  was  spent  upon  us.  She  lived  as 
if  she  had  no  existence  for  herself;  her  bed  was  straw,  her 
food  what  we  had  left  over,  and  never  could  our  prayers 
prevail  upon  her  to  share  equally  with  us,  even  in  trifles. 
Always  friendly  and  merry,  although  taciturn,  we  could 
always  read  in  her  looks  the  words  which  she  often  used  to 
say  in  order  to  comfort  us :  "  Dearest  lady !  all  will  be  well 
again  one  day."  Yes,  dear  Nanna,  you  have  made  it  well ; 


SKETCHES.  277 

night  and  day  did  you  work  for  me,  and  would  not  have 
thanks  for  it.  When  I  got  so  well,  that  I  was  able  to  work 
again,  I  wanted  her  to  allow  herself  some  rest,  of  which  she 
was  the  more  in  need  as  her  health  was  much  impaired,  and 
she  was  evidently  becoming  weaker  every  day;  but  all  in 
vain.  She  continued  carrying  out  milk  until  last  week,  when 
she  fell  ill.  She  wishes  to  live  merely  for  the  sake  of  being 
of  use  to  me  and  my  children.  About  herself  she  is  per- 
fectly indifferent,  as  for  one  already  dead ;  I  have  not  been 
able  to  persuade  her  to  allow  herself  to  be  carried  into  a 
more  comfortable  room  and  to  have  a  softer  bed.  '  I  am 
used  to  it,'  she  says,  '  it  is  good  enough  for  me.'  Oh ! 
if  you  knew,  Sir,  how,  only  a  short  time  ago,  I  rejoiced  in 
the  hope  of  working  for  her  who  has  so  long  worked  for 
me ;  to  see  her  old  age  made  peaceful  and  happy  through 
our  tender  care  and  grateful  love,  you  would  also  be  able 
to  understand  how  bitterly  I  must  feel  it  to  see  her  fall  a 
sacrifice  to  her  heroic  devotion,  just  at  a  moment  when  she 
might  be  able,  through  me  and  my  children,  to  enjoy  a  re- 
ward,  earned  by  the  self-denial  of  half  a  life-time.  If  it  is 
in  your  power,  try  to  save  her,  —  do  it  for  her  sake  ;  she 
may  still  see  happy  days  here  on  earth,  —  do  it  for  my 
sake  ;  for  I  do  not  think  that  I  could  bear  the  idea  that  I 
should  have  been  the  cause  of  the  death  of  this  angelic 
woman  ;  do  it  for  my  children's  sake,  who  love  her  dearly, 
and  who  would  lose  in  her  a  daily  example  of  the  noblest 
virtues.  Oh !  save  her  —  and  my  gratitude  — *  I  rose, 
asking  her  not  to  mention  gratitude.  '  I  consider  myself 
sufficiently  rewarded,  if  I  succeed  in  saving  such  a  life,'  I 
said,  and  returned  to  the  sick-bed.  I  confess  that  I  now 
contemplated  her  with  very  different  eyes,  and  I  comforted 
the  lady  and  her  children  with  the  assurance,  that,  unless 
the  thread  of  her  life  had  not  entirely  run  out,  my  excel- 
lent medicine  would  add  fresh  elasticity  to  the  springs  and 
set  the  pendulum  going  again  as  regularly  as  before. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her  ?  "  added  the  Doctor  — 


278  SKETCHES. 

"  was  I  not  right  in  saying,  Who  would  have  expected  to 
find  so  much  virtue  walking  between  two  milk-pails  ?  " 

I  agreed  with  him  that  such  self-sacrificing  virtue  was 
exceedingly  rare.  Still,  I  believe  that  if  we  would  take  the 
trouble  to  look  for  it,  we  should  far  more  frequently  find 
instances  of  it  amongst  the  classes  commonly  called  the 
uneducated,  than  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  so-called  refined 
classes.  The  nobility  of  the  soul,  the  qualities  of  the 
heart,  resemble  those  sweet  juices  of  honey  which  the 
humblest  flowers  of  the  fields  conceal  in  their  bosom ; 
whereas  often  the  choicest  and  most  wonderful  plants  of  the 
flower-beds  and  of  the  hot-houses  contain  venom  amongst 
their  brilliant  leaves.  Art  rarely  educates  without,  at  the 
same  time,  miseducating,  and  one  generally  loses  in  inner 
worth  what  one  gains  in  outward  appearance. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  we  ought  to  ascribe  to  Doctor 

S 's  wonderful  medicines  the  recovery  of  the  old  woman ; 

or  whether  her  own  constitution  and  the  tender  care  of  her 
mistress  were  not  chiefly  instrumental  herein  ;  but,  suffice 
it  to  say,  she  recovered  her  health  completely.  My  friend 
allows  her  a  small  annuity,  which  she  devotes  entirely  to  the 
use  of  her  now  happy  mistress  and  her  amiable  children. 
She  carries  twice  a  week  the  milk  to  my  friend,  the  Doctor, 
and  all  that  she  consents  to  accept  of  him  for  her  own  ac- 
count, is  the  cup  of  coffee  with  sugar  and  biscuits,  which 
he  always  has  ready  for  her  every  morning  when  she  calls. 
But  in  return  she  insists  upon  deducting  six  stiver  for  every 
can  of  milk  which  he  buys  of  her.  How  they  have  ulti- 
mately settled  this  important  point,  I  do  not  know. 

AT  FORTY  YEARS   OF  AGE. 

THE  age  of  fifteen  has  been  celebrated  in  song  as  life's 
rosy  period,  and  it  has  been  allowed  to  bloom  up  to  twenty, 
aye,  even  up  to  twenty-five  ;  the  age  of  sixty  or  seventy  has 
been  honored  as  being  the  years  of  wisdom  and  of  mature 
virtues :  1  will  sing  the  praise  of  the  age  of  forty  —  the 


SKETCHES.  279 

present  century's  and  my  own  age.  I  know  a  lady,  who, 
when  twenty-eight  years  old,  gave  herself  out  to  be  thirty 
—  "  for,"  said  she,  "  what  is  the  use  of  sticking  to  those  two 
years  ?  "  Perhaps  I  also  follow  a  little  her  footsteps,  for, 
J  think  with  her:  thirty-eight,  thirty-nine,  forty,  why,  it 
comes  to  almost  the  same  thing.  The  wisdom-teeth  and 
the  wrinkles  have  already  come. 

Forty  years !  do  not  you  feel  something  "  set "  in  those 
words?  At  forty  one  has  generally  settled  down  in  life. 
This  is  why  one  can  quietly  walk  about  and  contemplate 
the  world,  and  —  there  is  much  to  contemplate  in  this 
world.  Our  century  has  also  settled  down,  but  it  has  set- 
tled down  in  Parliament  and  meditates  upon  the  State,  and 
therefore  it  looks  neither  merry  nor  uneasy,  but  thoughtful. 
So  also  is  woman  at  forty.  The  heart  does  not  then  any 
longer  beat  uneasily  before  a  ball,  or  still  more  uneasily 
after  one ;  nor  do  we  then  stand  here  in  life  as  a  poor  can- 
didate for  any  thing,  a  prey  to  wishes,  hopes,  uncertainties, 
contrarieties,  happiness,  and  misery,  neither  does  the  frame 
of  our  mind,  like  a  chameleon,  take  the  impression  of 
every  new  object,  changing  from  rose-color  to  black,  from 
green  to  gray,  in  the  course  of  only  a  few  hours ;  nor  do 
you  see  in  every  one  whom  you  meet  some  important  per- 
sonage in  the  romance  of  your  life,  nor  in  every  uttered 
nonsense  a  monster  which  you  are  to  rush  upon  and  attack, 
like  Don  Quixote  battling  with  the  windmill ;  you  need  not 
then  dance  when  you  want  to  sit  still,  nor  walk  according 
to  the  will  of  others,  when  you  have  your  own  will  —  in  a 
word,  you  are  above  a  great  deal  of  anxiety  and  trouble. 
Many  a  rosy  light  has,  it  is  true,  perchance  waned,  but  also 
many  mists  have  rolled  away  and  brightened.  You  see  your 
way  clearer,  you  walk  along  more  steadily ;  not  swayed 
hither  and  thither  by  the  wind,  as  in  youth  ;  not  leaning  with 
faltering  steps  upon  the  crutches  of  old  age  ;  you  walk 
sturdily  on  your  own  legs,  and  look  round  in  the  world  with- 
out coming  to  fisticuffs  with  it.  Forty  years  is  the  age  of 
contemplation,  of  practical  thought.  Long  life  be  to  them ! 


280  SKETCHES. 

I  was  yesterday  in  town.  A  large  town  is  after  all  a 
strange  thing.  We  feel  this  most  when  we  have  been  liv- 
ing a  long  time  in  the  country.  The  country !  I  wish  that 
everybody  could  live  there,  and  become  well  acquainted 
with  all  its  peaceful  objects. 

How  beneficial  is  it  not  for  sore  eyes  (sore  from  contem- 
plating the  world  and  humanity)  to  rest  upon  the  "  Eyes- 
delight  "  with  which  Sweden's  Flora  has  so  richly  studded 
our  verdant  fields ;  to  see  in  old  forests  the  "  Yellow-bird 's- 
head"  juicy  and  odoriferous,  shoot  out  of  the  poorest  soil 
at  the  roots  of  the  firs ;  to  see  and  hear  the  waves  beat 
upon  the  shore ;  to  rest  near  the  murmuring  brook,  when 
the  "  Money-wort "  and  the  "  Purple-specked  loosestrife  " 
shine  amongst  the  bushes  upon  its  bank  ;  to  listen  to  the 
country-people's  songs  in  the  evening,  while  they  are  piling 
the  fragrant  hay-cocks ;  to  see  the  cows  graze  upon  the 
lately-mown  fields,  and  the  sheep  —  pictures  all  of  repose 
and  innocence,  bringing  peace  and  refreshing  coolness  to 
our  soul.  It  makes  you  more  pious,  more  healthy.  Yes, 
everybody  ought  to  live  in  the  country,  but  nevertheless 
visit  the  town  now  and  then.  This  was  just  what  I  did 
yesterday. 

Stockholm  is  not  a  very  large,  nor  is  it  a  very  populous 
town.  London  is  much  larger.  But  still  Stockholm  is  a 
real  capital.  I  think  it  is  splendid. 

Born  of  a  wedding  and  of  a  murder,1  a  child  of  love  and 
revenge,  the  soil  inaugurated  by  mead  and  royal  blood,  the 
former  Agnefit,  the  present  Stockholm,  rose  from  out  the 
waters,  both  salt  and  fresh.  Even  to  this  day,  as  then,  the 
sea  and  the  lake  mingle  their  floods  round  its  base,  and  in 
it  thrives  and  moans  in  wonderful  union,  love  and  hatred, 
virtue  and  crime,  the  great  and  the  little,  beauty  and  ugli- 
ness, the  bitter  and  the  sweet. 

1  See  tales  of  Swedish  history,  how  King  Agne  of  the  Ynglinga  dy- 
nasty, after  having  conquered  a  Finnish  king  and  made  his  daughter  pris- 
oner, and  when  on  his  way  home,  their  wedding  being  celebrated,  became 
intoxicated,  and  was  hanged  on  a  tree  at  her  instigation. 


SKETCHES.  281 

The  sun,  the  high  and  pure,  shone  over  that  chaotic 
world  on  an  August  evening  as  I  went  forth  for  a  walk  to 
view  the  town.  Every  object  around  me  stood  out  in  bold 
relief. 

The  House  of  Nobles  !  —  hem  —  what  have  I  to  do 
there?  There  the  legislators  of  the' country  discuss  the 
weal  of  society,  and  I  belong  —  God  help  me !  (or  thank 
God !)  —  to  the  minors  in  the  State,  who,  as  the  wise-acres 
say,  ought,  for  the  good  of  the  State,  always  to  remain  so 
(in  a  political  sense). 

Two  things  I  believe  in,  and  the  third  I  take  to  be 
certain :  — 

1st.  That  the  wiseacres  are  right. 

2d.  That  not  compulsion,  as  now,  but  free  choice,  free 
conviction  (which  must  be  preceded  by  a  complete  eman- 
cipation), ought,  and  one  day  shall,  decide  woman's  social 
position. 

3d.  That  I  shall  not  live  to  see  the  day  when  such  an 
emancipation  takes  place ;  to  see  all  the  madness  and  the 
stupidity  walk  about  in  open  daylight,  which  are  now  sitting 
quietly  at  home  spinning.  "  For  certain  it  is  "  (said  my 
youngest  sister  just  now,  laughing),  "  that  all  the  mad  ones 
want  to  rule,  and  that  would  be  a  disgrace  to  the  whole 
corps ! " 

However,  I  leave  the  House  of  Nobles  to  itself.  Gus- 
tavus  Vasa  stands  in  the  square  of  the  House  of  Nobles. 
I  always  loiter  some  time  before  that  figure.  When  I  turn 
away  from  the  human  faces  in  the  street  (mine  own 
amongst  them),  and  look  up  to  that  face,  I  fancy  there 
must  be  some  truth  in  the  Indian  myth,  that  some  people 
have  emanated  out  of  the  head  of  the  Creator,  and  others 
out  of  his  feet.  It  is  not,  therefore,  necessary  to  arrange 
them  in  Indian  castes.  No  Pariahs  !  Look  round  on  Na- 
ture. Do  here  not  grow  beside  each  other  moss  and  holly, 
turnips  and  astrakhan  apple-trees,  anemone  and  rose-tree  ? 
They  drink  the  same  dew,  and  develop  and  bloom  in  the 


282  SKETCHES. 

light  of  the  same  sun.  But  let  us  return  to  the  hero's 
statue.  *Sb  a  king  and  a  hero  ought  to  look  !  So  free,  so 
firm,  so  quiet,  so  cheerful.  It  is  at  the  word  of  command 
of  such  a  king  that  nations  arise  and  march  onward.  Gus- 
tavus  Vasa's  last  word  was  "  Yes !  "  so  was  his  life :  strongly 
confirmatory.  A  truly  royal  life  ! 

While  I  stood  contemplating  the  splendid  head,  I  saw  a 
large  spider  spinning  its  web  between  the  sceptre  and  his 
laurel  crown.  What  did  it  want  there  ? 

Close  by  rise  the  royal  sepulchres.  Sceptres  and  crowns 
have  fallen  there.  Heads  and  hands  that  have  worn  them 
rest  there  in  darkness,  in  dust.  Happy  it  is  that  a  bold 
spire  again  is  raised  over  them,  pointing  to  the  hope  be- 
yond the  tomb  !  Happy  it  is  that  thp  temple  arches  itself 
over  the  dead,  under  whose  vault  was  preached  —  Immor- 
tality. 

All  round  the  "  Kiddarholm  "  stand  fine  large  edifices, 
which  formerly  were  private  palaces,  but  now  are  govern- 
ment offices.  A  sign  of  the  times  ! 

In  a  straight  line  from  the  king's  statue,  near  the  water, 
there  sit  a  long  line  of  "  Queens,"  every  one  in  her  own 
realm.  True  it  is  that  market-women  always  have  ap- 
peared to  me  to  have  a  certain  resemblance  to  queens. 
But  there  is  a  difference  —  a  great  one  !  There,  however, 
they  sat,  all  the  market-queens,  powerful  and  important, 
each  one  at  the  head  of  a  long  table,  her  realm,  over  whose 
provinces  they  kept  a  sharp  and  watchful  eye.  What  beau- 
tiful provinces  !  Here  vegetables  of  all  kinds  ;  there  the 
produce  of  the  orchard ;  here  again  berries  of  all  colors 
and  kinds,  and  there  flowers  in  pots  —  and  brooms,  too. 

Housewives  and  their  cooks  wander  about  aihongst  them 
to  admire,  inquire,  choose,  bargain,  purchase.  An  elderly 
gentleman  —  who  looks  as  if  he  had  a  well-filled  purse  — 
contemplates  all  the  various  treasures,  but  makes  wry  faces. 
Surely  he  must  have  a  bad  digestion.  Yonder  ragged 
urchin  has  certainly  not  many  farthings,  but  oh !  see  how 


SKETCHES.  283 

greedily  he  eats  out  of  the  paper  bag  which  he  has  got 
filled  with  berries.  Which  of  the  two  is  most  to  be  envied  ? 
Old-fashioned,  silly  question  !  Save  us  from  an  answer. 

"  Storkyrkobrinken  !  "  Book-sellers'  shops  —  book-sell- 
ers' shops  —  book-sellers'  shops ! 

"  Roasted  pigeons  do  not  fly  into  our  mouths,"  says  an 
old  proverb.  Oh !  it  is  far  better  than  that  nowadays,  my 
dear  Proverb  !  For  what  is  needed  now  to  imbibe  knowl- 
edge of  all  sorts?  Only  to  open  your  mouth.  Happy 
times  ! 

Along  "  Norrbro,"  what  a  variety  of  professions  and 
faces  !  What  a  variety,  what  a  stir  there  is  around  the  old 
palace,  standing  there  in  silent  majesty,  staring  out  of  hun- 
dreds of  windows,  like  Argus-eyes,  out  over  the  waters  and 
the  town,  delighting  the  eye  of  the  wanderer  with  its  grand 
proportions.  Amusing  to  see  people  go  in  and  out  of  the  ele- 
gant shops  in  the  Bazaar,  buying  costly  stuffs,  books,  music, 
"  Madame  Bishop,"  "  the  Archbishop,"  cigars,  and  Heaven 
knows  what  all ;  pleasant  to  see  people  have  plenty  of 
money !  I  shall  not  go  there,  to-day ;  I  prefer  looking  at 
the  people  outside.  There  a  young  and  charming  lady, 
dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  in  gauze  and  muslin,  sails 
past  the  steps  on  which  a  beggar-woman,  scarcely  covered 
with  rags,  is  sitting,  chewing  a  mouldy  crust  of  bread  ! 
There  —  but  here  a  young  gentleman  came  across  my 
thoughts. 

He  came  from  the  "  Helgeands-holm."  Handsome  face, 
but  what  traces  of  dissipation !  His  dark  curls  in  wild  dis- 
order round  his  forehead,  the  disorder  in  his  looks  wilder 
still ;  the  hat  too  small  for  his  face,  and  much  battered ; 
his  clothes  *  torn  !  With  hasty  steps  he  sped  along  the 
bridge,  in  the  beautiful  sunshine,  through  the  motley  crowd. 
A  young  girl  with  rosy  cheeks  and  dress  stared  at  him, 
and  —  laughed.  The  silly  one !  A  stout  gentleman,  with 
a  pompous  appearance,  looked  at  him  also,  and  started. 
Fancy  a  large,  substantial,  ruddy  face,  in  which  nose, 


284  SKETCHES. 

mouth,  eyes,  in  a  word,  every  thing,  was  pointing  strongly 
upwards,  and  put  upon  this  an  expression  of  utter  aston- 
ishment, and  you  will,  I  hope,  pardon  me  for  smiling.  The 
unhappy  youth  walked  along  through  the  crowd.  As  he 
walked  on,  all  turned  round  to  look  at  him,  and  then  quietly 
turned  away  again.  He  walked  on  the  brink  of  destruc- 
tion, I  fancied ;  he  disappeared.  The  human  stream  closed 
noisily  in  his  wake  ;  the  dark-green  current  surged  and 
boiled  through  the  arches  of  the  bridge.  It  is  here  where 
the  salt  and  fresh  waters  meet,  and  struggle,  and  mingle. 
Boats,  full  of  people,  were  rowed  backwards  and  forwards 
on  both  sides  of  the  bridge.  Fishermen,  in  their  small 
canoes  floating  calmly  on  the  river,  were  angling.  Sea- 
gulls were  making  their  airy  gyrations,  screaming  and 
plunging.  On  the  "  Strom-parterre "  the  silver  poplars 
were  waving  their  slender  forms.  Down  below  in  the  gar- 
den pretty  children  ran  about  playing,  guarded  by  watchful 
mothers  seated  on  the  benches  under  the  trees.  Round 
small  tables,  small  parties  were  eating  ices,  laughing,  and 
chatting.  Gentlemen  smoked  cigars  and  read  newspapers. 
"  Necken  "  shot  foaming  and  smoking  through  the  clear 
water,  and  laid  to  at  the  parterre,  inviting  you  to  a  trip 
to  •'  Djurgarden." 

Merry  folks  accepted  the  invitation,  stepped  on  board, 
and  quickly  the  "  Necken  "  darted  off  with  them  across  the 
blue  waters.  Cares,  gloomy  looks  and  faces  —  where  were 
they  ?  Not  here. 

Horses,  carts,  cabs,  and  riders,  high  and  low,  are  un- 
pleasant things  in  a  town.  Their  riding  and  driving  hither 
and  thither  always  prevent  me  walking  across  Gustavus 
Adolphus  Square  quietly  and  collectedly,  and  therefore  I 
cannot  tell  you  any  thing  about  my  thoughts  at  the  base  of 
the  statue  of  "  the  Great  Gustaf  Adolf; "  not  a  word  of 
his  generals,  nor  of  the  Royal  Opera,  nor  for  whom  it  was 
that  the  sentinel  just  now  called  the  guard  "  under  arms  !  " 

There  reigns  more  quiet  under  the  lime-trees  in  the 


SKETCHES  285 

square  a  little  further  on.  The  old  "  King's  Garden  "  is 
still  a  peaceful  place,  where  children  can  run  about  undis- 
turbed ;  where  old  people  can  sit  down  to  rest  quietly,  and 
where  philosophical  pedestrians  can  walk  up  and  down, 
contemplating,  from  under  the  shade  of  large,  wide-spread- 
ing, leafy  trees,  the  busy  world  round  about  them,  the  estu- 
ary, and  the  palace.  The  August  evening  was  very  sultry, 
the  town  air  hung  heavily  over  the  garden,  but  the  lime- 
trees  were  blooming  and  their  fresh  fragrance  broke  now 
and  then  through  the  oppressive  air.  Carriages  and  vehi- 
cles of  all  kinds  were  rattling  out  to  the  Djurgarden,  and 
gentlemen  were  galloping  along  on  fine  horses.  In  the 
avenues  of  the  garden  all  was  silent.  One  couple  was 
there  walking,  whom  I  followed  with  my  eyes  for  a  good 
while.  He  was  tall,  middle-aged  (about  the  golden  forty), 
with  a  noble,  manly  countenance  ;  vigor  and  gentleness 
united.  She  was  shorter,  a  slender  figure,  a  beautiful, 
youthful  face. 

They  walked  slowly,  conversing  with  one  another,  and 
when  he  looked  down  at  her,  and  she  up  to  him,  there  was 
something  in  their  faces  and  in  their  manner  which  made 
me  think,  "  So  it  is  right,  so  it  is  beautiful ! "  They  walked 
arm  in  arm  in  the  shade,  close  beside  each  other,  full  of 
confidence,  united  in  pure  love,  and  happy. 

A  little  further  on,  sat  on  a  bench  one  of  the  wealthiest 
and  first  men  in  the  country.  A  splendid  figure  !  He  was 
sitting  alone  and  thoughtful,  leaning  his  hands  upon  his 
walking-stick. 

On  the  next  bench  was  sitting  a  wretch,  whose  rags 
scarcely  covered  his  body.  He  also  sat  thoughtful,  leaning 
upon  his  staff.  Over  both,  the  lime-trees  waved  their  fra- 
grant crowns.  The  bells  pealed  from  the  church-steeples. 
Sounds  of  music  were  heard  from  the  water. 

My  road  led  me  afterwards  far  out  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
town. 

Here  the  houses  decrease  in  size,  creeping  at  last  in  the 


286  SKETCHES. 

shape  of  huts  and  cottages  up  the  sides  of  the  hills  or 
downwards  to  the  common  ;  every  thing  becomes  smaller, 
narrower,  poorer  ;  the  town  is  absorbed  by  the  country,  and 
the  street  by  the  turnpike  road.  Here  the  poor  people 
live.  It  is  the  world  of  the  cryptogamia  of  town  life. 
Still  the  student  loves  to  point  his  spy-glass  at  them,  to 
try  to  discover  the  great,  the  important,  in  the  seemingly 
insignificant. 

Here,  far  out  upon  the  outskirts,  is  a  narrow  street,  and 
in  that  street  stands  a  small  house,  and  in  that  house  dwells 
an  old  couple.  Young,  blooming  bride  !  can  you  think  it 
possible  that  the  woman  there  was  fifty-seven  years  old 
when  she  was  married  to  her  equally  old  husband;  and 
would  you  believe  it,  that  the  little  god,  who  flies  from  so 
many  young  and  handsome  couples  in  those  fine  houses  in 
town,  has  taken  up  his  abode  with  the  old  couple,  there  in 
the  small  cottage  in  that  narrow  street?  Yet  so  it  is. 
Husband  and  wife  love  one  another  with  all  their  heart, 
and  surprise  each  other  often  with  small  improvements  in 
their  home.  The  old  woman  showed  me  her  kitchen  stove. 
It  had  formerly  been  low  and  inconvenient.  The  old  man 
could  not  bear  to  see  how  the  wife  was  obliged  to  bend 
her  back  when  employed  at  it.  He  once  watched  the  op- 
portunity when  she  was  absent  for  a  couple  of  days,  and 
had  it  altered  and  raised  a  foot.  Now  it  was  "  the  best 
kitchen  stove  in  the  world,"  and  cheerfully  must  the  fire 
dance  on  the  hearth  and  shine  in  the  little  room.  I  do  not 
think  that  I  would  look  at  the  ruins  of  the  Coliseum  in 
Rome  with  so  much  pleasure  as  at  that  kitchen-stove.  The 
old  woman  boasted  also  of  a  small  bit  of  a  garden  with  one 
tree  in  it,  and  a  "real  bower"  of  half-naked  lilac-tree 
branches  covered  with  spider-webs.  "  Swedish  poverty  !  " 
I  thought,  and  remembered  what  is  expressed  in  these  two 
words :  to  find  one's  self  rich  with  little,  with  almost  nothing. 

I  peeped  accidentally  into  a  dark  closet ;  a  shadowy  form 
in  it  made  a  curtsey  to  me.  It  was  a  woman  seventy  years 


SKETCHES.  287 

old,  not  married,  who  lived  there  in  poverty  and  content- 
ment, earning  her  bread  with  the  labor  of  her  hands,  and 
who  had  never  received  or  asked  assistance  from  anybody. 
u  She  bakes  a  kind  of  small  cakes,  which  she  sells  to 
hucksters  at  four  stivers  apiece.  Well,  —  I  would'nt  eat 
them,"  said,  with  a  significant  grin,  the  well-to-do  old 
woman  who  told  me  this  (the  owner  of  the  kitchen  stove, 
the  tree,  and  the  spider-web  bower),  "but  boys  and  such 
like  buy  them,  I  believe,  and  thus  she  manages  to  pay 
her  rent  and  her  food.  And  as  to  clothes  —  poor  old 
body  !  —  she  has  no  others  than  those  she  stands  and  walks 
in  ;  but  content  she  is  with  them,  and  then  she  is  so  kind, 
and  always  merry." 

But  would  you  believe  it,  that  this  poor  old  woman  had 
her  pride  ?  And  in  what  did  this  pride,  concealed  under 
that  only  garment,  and  in  that  dark,  solitary  room,  consist  ? 
— "  I  have  never  been  a  burden  to  anybody,  and  nobody 
shall  ever  be  able  to  say  that  I  have  been  a  burden  to  the 
State  either ! "  said  the  old  maid,  and  her  pale  seventy- 
years'  old  eyes  sparkled  at  these  words  with  a  noble  self- 
consciousness,  also  a  kind  of  patriotism  as  good  as  any 
other ! 

Are  you  tired  of  my  wanderings  ?  I  was  by  this  time 
fatigued  myself,  and  therefore  I  returned  home.  From  it 
I  wish  you  farewell !  May  God  grant  you  clear  eyes,  the 
wish,  the  time,  and  liberty  to  look  about  you  in  the  world, 
and  somebody  at  home  to  whom  you  can  relate  what  you 
have  seen,  who  smiles  at  your  conceits,  sheds  a  tear  at 
your  sorrows,  and  takes  an  interest  in  your  impressions,  — 
somebody  to  love,  —  and  you  will  see  how  pleasant,  how 
blissful  life  can  be  at  forty  years  ! 


288  SKETCHES. 

WINDOW    PICTURES. 
MY  WINDOW,  1825. 

THE   VISITOR. 

WHAT  a  pity  it  is  that  the  whole  world  should  know  so 
well  what  a  window  is !  Otherwise  an  account  of  one  might 
have  afforded  me  a  subject  for  very  curious  descriptions. 
I  will  therefore  now  merely  notice,  what  the  whole  world 
has  not  so  very  carefully  observed,  namely,  all  the  advanta- 
ges which  this  valuable  contrivance,  the  Window,  presents  to 
man,  and  more  especially  to  us  towns-people  in  the  winter 
season,  when,  in  order  not  to  perish  from  cold,  we  are 
doomed,  like  the  bear,  to  spend  most  of  our  time  in  our 
warm  lair.  In  grateful  remembrance  hereof,  I  have  drawn 
up  the  following  memorial  relating  to  these  advantages, 
namely :  — 

1st.  A  prospect  of  the  earth. 

2d.  A  view  of  the  sky. 

3d.  A  survey  of  our  own  and  other  people's  business. 

4th.  An  insight  into  daily  life. 

5th.  An  inducement  to  meditation. 

6th.  Light  during  day. 

7th.  Air  whenever  we  wish  for  it. 

8th.  A  place  of  refuge  from  the  hydra  of  civilized  every- 
day life ;  that  hydra,  which  causes  the  Frenchman  to  com- 
mit "  sottises,"  the  Englishman  to  hang  himself,  the  German 
to  write  narcotic  books,  the  Swede  to  drink  or  play  at  cards, 
and  the  whole  world  to  yawn ;  which  fastens  lead  to  Time's 
wings  and  makes  minutes  eternal ;  that  hydra,  at  whose 
door  one  may  well  lay  half  of  all  the  evil  which  is  practiced 
in  the  world,  which  almost  everybody  knows  and  every- 
body dreads  — in  a  word  —  ennui. 

How  gladly  would  we  not  turn  it  out  of  the  house,  throw 
it  out  of  the  window,  slay,  annihilate  it.  But  it  is  immor- 
tal here  upon  earth,  like  enjoyment  and  pain,  and  makes 
its  appearance  in  their  absence  like  a  tiresome  "  dame  de 


SKETCHES.  289 

compagnie,"  unless  we  make  an  alliance  against  it  with 
some  friend  who  is  more  trustworthy  and  powerful  than  it. 

Personally  I  am  not  much  acquainted  with  ennui ;  but 
I  have  known  it  a  little  in  former  days,  when  in  order  to  fly 
from  it  I  retreated  to  my  window,  and  there  found  a  cure 
for  it.  I  remember  particularly  one  day,  or  rather  one 
evening !  I  was  at  that  time  young,  and  carried  in  1113 
bosom  a  heart  palpitating  with  a  longing  for  life's  richness, 
for  that  fullness  of  existence  which  I  had  heard  of  and  read 
of,  and  which  I  had  deeply  felt  that  I  could  enjoy,  impart- 
ing and  receiving,  but  which  I  had  not  then  ever  tasted. 
For  my  home  was  rich  enough  in  silks  and  finery  and 
French  engravings  and  parties  and  equipages ;  but  my  life 
was  nevertheless  poor,  and  my  soul  hungered.  This  hap- 
pens to  many. 

I  resided  in  the  capital.  All  those  who  belonged  to 
me,  my  father,  mother,  and  sisters,  were  at  the  New 
Year's  ball,  given  by  the  Burgesses  to  the  Royal  Family, 
but  I  had  to  stay  at  home,  in  order  to  nurse  the  remain- 
der of  a  slight  cold,  and  to  keep  my  old  paternal  grand- 
mother company.  (N.  B.,  —  I  had  entertained  some  little 
suspicion  that  the  remainder  of  my  cold  was  magnified 
somewhat  by  my  good  parents,  for  the  sake  of  the  old 
grandmother,  and  that  she  might  have  company,  which 
suspicion  did  not  much  improve  my  temper.)  But  —  I 
secretly  wiped  away  a  tear ;  was  glad  that  my  eldest  sis- 
ter looked  so  handsome  in  her  new  ball-dress,  and  that 
she  might  possibly  have  a  dance  with  the  Crown-Prince ; 
was  delighted  with  my  brother's  new  uniform,  in  which 
he  looked  so  stately,  and  determined  to  amuse  myself 
as  well  as  possible  in  my  solitude  with  reading,  music, 
and  —  myself.  Old  grandmother  was  not  a  very  cheering 
companion.  She  was  a  little  deaf,  and  spent  her  evenings 
by  telling  fortunes  in  cards  to  herself,  until  the  hour  for 
going  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock  when,  after  having  looked  at 
her  watch,  she  invariably  took  her  bedroom  candle,  say- 

19 


290  SKETCHES. 

ing  :  "  No,  now  we  must  proceed  to  the  latter  part !  "  or, 
"  No,  now  we  must  think  of  the  eider-downs  ! "  which  gen- 
erally was  a  signal  for  the  whole  house  to  go  to  bed,  but 
frequently  not  to  any  rest  for  me  ;  for  restless  feelings  and 
thoughts. made  the  "eider-downs"  to  me  any  thing  but  the 
peaceful  downs  of  forgetfulness  and  pleasant  dreams. 

This  evening,  especially,  after  recovering  from  my  fever- 
ishness,  the  pulses  of  life  seemed  to  rise  with  renewed  vigor, 
and  to  beat  with  double  strokes.  I  was  walking  about 
through  all  the  deserted  rooms  longing  for  something 
pleasant,  something  animating.  Hitherto  I  had  had  very 
little  pleasure  in  the  world,  and  yet  I  felt  that  I  could  enjoy 
much.  I  was  alone,  had  nothing  to  do,  nothing  to  work 
for,  nothing  I  fancied  to  live  for.  The  old  interminable 
"  frill "  at  which  I  was  working  while  I  was  sitting  at  the 
window  in  the  day,  I  did  not  care  even  to  look  at.  In  fact, 
I  detested  embroidery.  To  play  the  piano  was  more  pleas- 
ant, but  then  —  somebody  ought  to  listen  to  me  and  find 
pleasure  in  my  music  ;  but  I  was  now  alone  and  my  old 
grandmother  was  deaf  and  was  sitting  at  her  cards  in  the 
boudoir,  muttering  in  a  half-suppressed  voice  over  the 
Queen  of  hearts  and  the  King  of  spades,  and  about  deaths 
and  marriages  and  presents,  and  all  kinds  of  adventures  ; 
but  I  was  used  to  this,  and  used  to  her  prophecies  never 
being  fulfilled  ;  for  never  did  any  adventures  or  events,  any 
thing  unusual  or  wonderful,  happen  in  our  family,  which  I 
thought  was  exceedingly  tiresome,  and  I  therefore  sketched 
one  day  in  my  album  a  figure  yawning  awfully,  and  with 
outstretched  arms  sighing  forth  — 

The  worst  of  all  destinies 
Is  to  have  no  destiny  at  all. 

I  feared  that  I  was  doomed  to  this  fate  and  to  live  in  an 
eternal  calm.  Alas !  like  a  bird  in  its  cage,  flapping  its 
wings  against  the  imprisoning  bars  and  beating  itself  to 
death  rather  than  live  in  it,  such  was  at  this  time  my  poor 
heart.  This  evening,  at  all  events,  it  beat  so ;  it  was  be- 


SKETCHES.  291 

sides,  New  Year's  Day,  and  I  was  so  full  of  life  and  youth 
and  strength ;  the  New  Year  had  come.  Would  it  not 
bring  a  new  year  for  my  life,  for  my  soul  ?  Images,  forms* 
presages,  mirages  of  coming  events  floated  over  the  future  ; 
but  they  were  still  far  distant  and  indistinct.  I  did  not 
yet  quite  know  what  I  was  seeking,  what  I  wanted.  Some 
shapes  now  approached  nearer.  There  was  amongst  them 
one  figure,  dressed  in  a  man's  costume,  who  had  shown  me 
a  great  deal  of  politeness,  —  even  a  little  more  than  that. 
I  did  not  exactly  feel  any  inclination  towards  him,  but  this 
evening  he  appeared  to  me  more  amiable  than  usual ;  this 
evening  I  fancied  that  I  could  almost  love  him. 

Just  then  I  heard  grandmother  say  over  her  cards,  — 
"  Somebody  is  coming  to  pay  us  a  visit  to-night!"  Ah  ! 
if  only  somebody  would  come,  I  thought  to  myself,  and  for 
the  first  time  I  ascribed  a  power  of  a  higher  nature  to  my 
grandmother's  gift  of  divination.  She  had  pronounced  my 
soul's  secret  wish.  Piano-forte,  books,  engravings,  inani- 
mate objects  could  not  satisfy  the  cravings  of  my  soul.  I 
wanted  a  living  soul,  an  equal,  a  friend.  And  now  grand- 
mother promised  me  a  visitor.  If  he  came,  surely  he  came 
for  my  sake,  and  not  for  grandmamma's,  and  I  would  have 
the  conversation  all  to  myself,  and  my  grandmamma  would 
have  to  look  on.  And  that  figure  —  if  he  came,  why,  then 
surely  there  would  be  a  very  interesting  conversation  be- 
tween him  and  me  ;  nobody  could  tell  what  it  would  lead 
to ;  yes,  when  I  thought  of  it,  I  became  almost  a  little 
afraid.  For  there  was  another  figure,  also  in  man's  cos- 
tume, to  whom  I  was  far  more  partial,  aye,  whose  footsteps 
and  voice  made  my  heart  palpitate,  although  he  felt  no  in- 
clination towards  me.  But  this  evening  —  oh  !  if  he  should 
come  it  might  be  different ;  this  evening  I  felt  that  I  could 
charm  his  heart  to  me,  and  there  might  then  be  New  Year 
for  him  as  well  as  for  me  in  this  life.  And  there  was 
a  third  figure  —  a  friend  from  childhood  —  who  loved  me 
still,  although  I  have  refused  his  addresses ;  oh  !  if  he  would 
come,  I  would  be  so  friendly  to  him,  tell  him  so  many  beau- 


292  SKETCHES. 

tiful  exalted  things,  that  they  would  make  him  happy,  and 
we  would  form  a  league  of  friendship  for  eternity.  And 
then  there  was  a  friend,  whose  very  shadow  on  the  wall  was 
dear  to  me ;  oh !  if  she  should  come,  and  I  could  embrace 
her,  open  my  heart  to  her,  show  her  my  love,  make  her 
rich  with  the  wealth  of  my  feelings  !  True  she  was  some 
hundred  miles  distant  at  her  estate,  but  who  knows  whether 
she  might  not  come  for  all  that,  as  a  New  Year's  surprise ; 
whether  my  longing  could  not  draw  her  towards  me  with 
magic  power.  Every  thing  seemed  to  me  possible  this 
evening.  And  there  was  one  person,  who  had  done  me 
some  wrong ;  oh  !  that  he  would  come ;  I  would  do  him 
good  in  return  ;  I  would  give  him  a  treasure  of  love  and 
confidence  forever. 

There  was  above  all,  a  man,  a  great  man,  a  genius  whom 
I  worshipped  and  loved  almost  to  idolatry  ;  oh !  if  he  would 
come !  what  happiness  to  see  him,  to  converse  with  him, 
to  listen  to  his  exalted  thoughts  ;  pour  out  wine  for  him ; 
wait  upon  him  at  the  tea-table,  and  if  he  should  ask  a  favor 
of  me,  my  purse  or  my  life,  what  happiness  to  give  it  to 
him,  to  live  or  to  die  for  him  !  No,  that  would  be  too  great 
happiness !  He  won't  come.  But  there  are  in  this  world 
so  many  interesting  people,  so  many  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances. If  only  some  of  them  would  come  and  claim 
my  attention  or  my  activity ;  my  love  or  my  bravery ;  yes, 
if  nobody  else  would  come,  then,  at  any  rate,  thieves  and 
robbers ;  I  would  perform  some  desperate  act  of  valor, 
save  my  grandmother's  life,  kill  a  man,  perhaps  two,  with  a 
log  of  wood  or  with  the  poker,  be  spoken  of,  become 
famous ;  —  perhaps  suspected,  be  imprisoned,  appear  as  a 
witness  before  the  police  courts,  which  seemed  to  me  to  be 
much  more  pleasant  and  interesting  than  to  be  or  do  — 
nothing.  I  left  the  hall-door  unlocked,  in  order  to  receive 
the  expected  visitors,  friends  or  foes.  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
have  governed  the  whole  world.  But  the  world  seemed  to 
take  care  of  itself  and  not  to  care  for  me.  The  minutes 
fled ;  nobody  came.  But  was  not  somebody  to  come  ? 


SKETCHES.  293 

Grandmother  was  sitting  in  the  boudoir  telling  fortunes 
out  of  her  cards  ;  I  wandered  about  with  noiseless  steps 
upon  the  carpet  in  the  large  drawing-room  next  to  it. 
The  candle  in  the  chandelier  threw  a  romantic  twilight 
over  the  room,  and  the  hyacinths  in  the  window  filled 
it  with  summer  fragrance.  I  glanced  now  and  then  at 
the  large  pier-glass,  and  thought  that  I  looked  very  well, 
and  that  some  one  might  like,  or  even  fall  in  love  with  a 
girl  who  looked  so.  Occasionally,  also,  I  peeped  through 
the  window,  spying  for  the  expected  visitor. 

Our  house  was  situated  in  a  square,  so  that  I  had  an 
open  prospect.  Opposite  to  me,  in  the  corner  of  the  street, 
a  lamp  was  burning,  and  almost  straight  under  it  was 
hanging  a  large,  red  wooden  hand,  with  the  fore-finger 
stretched  out ;  a  dyer's  sign.  The  finger  pointed  at  every 
person  that  passed  under  the  lamp  ;  that  is  to  say,  when  it 
did  not  move,  for  every  now  and  then  it  was  swung  back- 
wards and  forwards  by  the  wind.  It  was  snowing,  and  the 
snow-flakes  were  falling  round  about  the  red  hand  in  the 
lamplight.  There  now,  it  is  still,  and  the  large  finger  is 
pointing  at  a  figure.  I  fancy  it  is  a  little  like  that  figure 
which  I  first  thought  of.  I  wonder  whether  he  will  come 

O 

here  ?  No,  he  turns  off  to  the  left.  I  dare  say  it  was  not 
he.  I  continue  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room.  "  After  all 
life  flies  so  quickly  ;  it  is  best  to  make  a  person  happy,  if 
we  can  do  so,  and  be  happy  through  his  happiness.  The 
perfect  is  not  man's  lot,  and  least  of  all  woman's.  They 
have  so  little  choice,  and  so  little  liberty.  It  is  best  to  take 
moderate  happiness  when  it  is  offered  to  us,  and  "  —  again  I 
look  through  the  window.  The  snow  falls.  The  lamplight 
is  flickering.  The  hand  swings  to  the  wind ;  now  it  is  still 
again,  pointing  at  a  figure,  surely  the  second  one !  How 
my  heart  is  beating !  He  walks  straight  up  to  our  house. 
How  could  I  think  of  the  first  one  ?  May  he  never  come  ! 
The  second  one,  the  right  one,  is  coming.  Him,  him  alone, 
can  I  love.  He  comes ;  he  enters  the  gate  ;  ascends  the 


294  SKETCHES. 

staircase ;  soon  he  will  be  in  the  hall !  "  Dear  grand- 
mother, we  shall  have  a  visitor !  Shall  we  not  receive 
him  V  "  "  Yes,  of  course ;  have  I  not  seen  it  in  the  cards  ? 
Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  is ;  I  am  not  quite  sure,  though."  Strange 

that  he  should  take  such  a  long  time  in  walking  up-stairs. 
His  steps  are  otherwise  so  lively  ;  so  is  also  his  mariner  of 
grasping  the  door-handle.  I  know  it  well.  Now  —  no, 
it  was  the  wind.  Minute  after  minute  glides  away.  No- 
body comes.  I  must  have  made  a  mistake  in  the  person. 
That  visit  was  not  intended  for  my  home. 

There  is  a  covered  sledge,  with  tinkling  bells,  driving 
right  up  to  our  house.  Oh  !  if  it  were  she  !  I  open  the 
gates  of  my  heart ;  she  shall  drive  into  it.  And  were  she 
covered  with  snow,  and  congealed  to  ice,  she  shall  there  be 
welcome  and  warm.  The  sledge  stops !  No,  it  drives 
past  our  door.  It  was  not  she  ! 

The  minutes  fly ;  now  the  clock  strikes  a  quarter  to  nine. 
It  begins  to  get  late  for  ordinary  visitors.  But  some 
extraordinary  visitor  might  yet  come.  The  genius,  for 
instance ;  he  measures  neither  time  nor  hours.  He  is 
extraordinary.  See  there !  Does  not  the  red  hand  point 
at  a  figure  in  a  cloak,  just  like  his  cloak  ?  It  is  him  ;  my 
friend,  the  genius ;  the  immortal  man  ;  and  I  shall  see  him, 
and  feel  my  heart  beat  for  immortal  feelings  and  thoughts. 
How  grand !  how  splendid  life  can  be  !  Yes,  but  how  nar- 
row, poor,  and  empty  also.  It  must  not  have  been  he,  the 
genius,  my  friend.  He  could  not  have  passed  by  my  home, 
as  that  cloak  has  done. 

It  strikes  nine.  The  footman  enters  with  the  supper  for 
grandmamma  and  me.  Grandmamma  sips  her  milk-posset, 
and  I  my  tea.  We  eat  and  drink  in  silence.  My  heart 
does  not  now  beat  so  loudly.  It  is  not  probable  that  my 
friend  will  call  now ;  and  an  enemy,  or  a  thief,  or  a  robber 
—  that  would  be  moderately  pleasant,  comparatively  at  least. 

The  supper  is  carried  out.    Grandmamma  is  again  at  her 


SKETCHES.  295 

cards.     I  stand  again  at  the  window.     A  white  frost-mist 

O 

fills  the  air  all  around,  hiding  all  objects,  also  the  red  hand, 
and  the  lamp  which  throws  out  a  faint,  sickly  light.  I  can 
no  longer  see  whether  any  figures  are  passing  under  it ; 
but  this  is  now  indifferent  to  me,  for  nobody  will  come 
now  who  can  make  my  heart  beat,  or  to  whom  I  can  afford 
a  New  Year's  pleasure.  I  wander  again  up  and  down  in 
the  romantic  twilight  and  flower-fragrance  of  the  drawing- 
room.  The  clock  strikes  ten.  Grandmamma  rises  from  her 
seat,  takes  her  candle,  and  says :  "  No,  my  dear  Fanny, 
now  we  must  think  of  the  latter  part !  Good  night,  my 
heart's  delight !  "  Heart's  delight  kisses  grandmamma,  sees 
her  to  her  bedroom  and  then  returns  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

I  am  now  quite  alone.  When  I  look  through  the  window 
again,  the  mist  has  fallen  lower,  and  covered  the  street 
and  its  world  with  an  impenetrable  veil ;  but  behold !  high 
above  it  the  starry  heavens  are  unveiled,  and  shine  forth 
with  indescribable  lustre. 

A  magnificent  constellation  rises  over  my  head.  What 
is  its  name  ?  I  had  just  begun  studying  a  little  astronomy, 
and  I  hastened  to  get  out  my  charts  and  books.  Soon  I 
was  with  my  whole  soul  and  life  up  amongst  the  stars ; 
gave  them  names  ;  made  the  acquaintance  of  new  ones,  and 
learnt  about  them  what  astronomical  books  teach  us.  This 
so  absorbed  my  whole  attention  that  I  was  highly  astonished 
when  I  heard  the  clock  strike  twelve.  I  could  scarcely 
believe  my  own  ears.  But  so  it  was,  the  first  day  of  the 
New  Year  had  closed,  and  neither  thieves  nor  robbers  had 
availed  themselves  of  the  unlocked  hall-door  to  pay  me  a 
New  Year's  visit,  and  really  I  was  not  sorry  for  it  now ; 
aye,  I  was  not  sad  in  any  way  now ;  I  felt  wonderfully  cheer- 
ful, and  peaceful  at  the  same  time.  Heaven's  starry  vault 
was,  as  it  were,  glittering  within  me,  and  as  I  passed  the 
pier-glass,  I  fancied  that  my  eyes  were  sparkling  brightly 
like  stars. 


296  SKETCHES. 

How  is  this?  What  has  happened?  I  asked  myself, 
while  I  sat  down  upon  the  sofa  in  the  boudoir  to  rest  a 
little,  under  the  impression  that  really  something  had  hap- 
pened to  me. 

A  feeling  of  exaltation,  of  inward  independence,  filled 
my  soul,  as  if  some  truth,  some  light,  rich  with  the  future, 
had  arisen  in  it.  Something  great  had  come  over  me  ;  had 
made  me  forget  time,  solitude,  myself,  and  my  petty,  selfish 
wishes,  and  inspired  me  with  new  thoughts ;  a  fresh  inter- 
est ;  and  when  I  asked  its  name,  I  was  answered,  "  The 
Glory  of  God ! "  For  "  God's  shadow  wanders  through 
Nature." 1 

Grandmother  had  predicted  truly.  A  visitor  had  act- 
ually come ;  not  through  the  door,  but  from  above  — 
through  the  window. 

MY  WINDOW,  1855. 

NEW  PROSPECTS. 
THE    BEGGAR-WOMAN. 

Now  it  is  autumn ;  late  in  the  autumn  ;  November. 
Winter  is  at  the  door. 

Somebody  has  made  the  remark,  that  after  the  lapse  of 
ten  years  the  causes  of  man's  happiness  or  misery  in  life 
are  very  different  from  those  previous  to  these  ten  years. 
How  much  more  applicable  is  not  this  to  a  period  of  thirty 
years  ? 

It  lies  in  our  nature  that,  at  certain  periods  of  time,  we 
look  back  upon  the  road  which  we  have  travelled,  to  meas- 
ure it  from  the  point  which  we  have  reached  and  the  goal 
which  lies  before  us.  We  place  ourselves,  as  it  were,  in 
the  window  of  our  inner  room  in  the  world,  to  survey  our 
life,  its  forms,  its  efforts,  and  its  aim,  and  try  to  get  a  clear 
and  distinct  view  of  it. 

"The  development   of  individual  life   progresses   from 


SKETCHES.  297 

condition  to  condition,"  says  the  modern  Simon  Stylites, 
Aabye  Kjerkegaard,  sitting  upon  his  solitary  pillar,  staring 
at  the  sky,  and  now  and  then  spitting  at  the  people  round 
about  him  on  earth.  Upon  the  direction  of  this  movement 
depends  the  condition  in  which  we  ultimately  remain,  or 
rather  to  which  we  arrive,  for  stop  we  cannot,  unless  we 
become  spiritually  petrified. 

"  As  we  do  not,"  says  the  Danish  prophet  just  mentioned, 
"  rise  from  the  Christian,  the  unsophisticated,  to  become 
eventually  interesting,  witty,  an  artist,  philosopher,  states- 
man, etc.,  etc. ;  but  as  on  the  contrary,  out  of  all  these 
through  reflection  we  become  in  all  more  and  more  a  hum- 
ble Christian,"  in  the  same  manner  also  the  true  aim  of 
life  ought  to  let  our  petty  passions,  our  love  for  such  and 
such  a  one,  for  this  or  that,  and  above  all  our  self-love,  fall 
away,  or  rather  be  absorbed,  lost,  or  glorified  in  our  love 
for  —  Love  itself,  the  only  lovable,  ever  yielding,  ever  ful- 
filling spirit.  Absorbed  in  that  spirit,  man  turns  again 
towards  the  world  of  humanity,  not  like  the  Danish  Simon 
Stylites,  but  with  a  new  love,  more  general,  but  there- 
fore not  the  less  warm ;  no,  fiery  and  pure,  like  that  of  the 
highest  Being  whose  child  it  is.  That,  is  thy  aim,  loving 
heart !  Blessed  art  thou  who  reach  est  it ! 

Thus  much  about  life's  "  condition."  I  return  to  my 
window.  Both  window  and  condition  are  not  any  longer 
the  same  as  those  in  the  picture  thirty  years  ago.  All  is 
changed.  Only  some  .pieces  of  the  old  furniture  remind 
me  of  the  old  home.  Those  people  who  in  it  constituted 
the  delight  or  the  misery  of  my  life,  are  all  gone,  dead,  or 
away.  There  is  much  besides  death,  which  separates  peo- 
ple. The  heart  which  then  —  but  hush,  hush,  or  it  will 
bleed,  from  the  memory  of  the  life,  the  faith,  the  love,  of 
which  it  then  was  capable.  It  still  beats  warmly,  although 
for  other  objects.  Thirty  years  of  a  life,  rich  in  important 
events  and  changes,  more  rich  than  all  the  tropically  bril- 
liant and  warm  dreams  of  youth,  have  flown  past,  but  not 


298  SKETCHES. 

vainly.  They  have  changed  much.  There  is  now  snow  on 
my  locks,  the  hot  winds  have  become  cool,  I  feel  the  fan- 
ning of  another  spring-air  from  other  regions,  and  I  thank 
God  for  it. 

My  window  looks  again  out  upon  a  square,  but  a  differ- 
ent one  to  tli at  of  thirty  years  ago.  I  see  less  of  the  street 
and  more  of  the  sky.  I  am  living  one  story  higher  up. 
Again  I  am  alone,  quite  alone  in  my  home,  but  yet  less 
lonely  than  ever,  and  my  desire  for  activity  that  was  so  in- 
tense thirty  years  ago  has  been  more  than  fulfilled,  for  I 
have  more  to  do  than  I  can  really  manage.  I  expect  no 
visitor,  and  long  for  none.  But  there  are  visitors  which  are 
still  dear  to  me,  and  heartily  welcome.  Amongst  these  is 
the  sun,  which  about  noon  usually  peeps  into  my  window. 
In  the  evening  I  have  his  last  ray,  for  my  room  lies  towards 
that  point  where  he  sets.  Across  a  great  number  of  house- 
tops I  look  forth  upon  fir-crowned  hills  on  the  horizon,  and 
see  in  the  green  valleys  between  them  small  white  rural 
cottages,  and  on  th'e  heights  seven  windmills,  swinging 
round  their  wings  and  grinding  a  great  deal  of  corn. 
When  I  open  my  window,  I  feel  coming  from  those  hills  a 
fresh  country  air,  as  delightful  as  if  it  had  not  crossed  the 
town  and  square  to  reach  me.  This  is  a  great  enjoyment 
indeed. 

I  love  to  stand  in  my  window  morning  and  evening  for 
a  short  time ;  in  the  morning  to  contemplate  the  wondrous 
beauty  of  the  changing  colors  of  early  dawn  ;  to  behold  the 
sun's  first,  brilliant  rays  falling  upon  the  windows  of  the 
cottages  amongst  the  hills ;  to  see  the  active  life  of  the 
market-place  under  my  windows  awake  and  become  astir  ; 
in  the  evening,  to  see  it  die  away  and  cease,  and  to  catch 
the,  last  farewell  looks  of  the  sun  sinking  behind  the  hills. 
Occasionally  also  during  the  day  I  amuse  myself  by  looking 
at  the  market-place  and  its  bustle  and  trade. 

But  that  which  is  the  object  of  my  contemplation,  what 
I  enjoy,  what  I  receive  within  me  as  a  bright  image,  or  a 


SKETCHES.  299 

perception,  I  maintain  to  be  my  property  quite  as  much  and 
even  more  than  if  I  had  acquired  it  by  any  legal  purchase. 
What  I  thus  obtain  through  God's  mercy,  that  I  take,  I 
have,  and  I  keep,  and  nobody  can  deprive  me  of  it ;  it  is 
actually  and  indisputably  mine.  I  consider  myself,  there- 
fore, fully  entitled  to  say  not  only  my  window,  but  also  my 
prospect,  my  hills,  my  windmills,  my  market-place,  my  mar- 
ket-women, tables,  vegetables,  etc.,  etc.  —  in  a  word,  my 
large  household,  my  pantry  in  the  market-place  ;  it  is  all,  all 
my  individual  property,  the  same  as  the  large  magnificent 
cupola  above  it  in  which  the  sun  and  the  stars  are  shining. 

My  market-place  is  a  comfortable  market-place ;  it  has 
no  sanguinary  memories,  like  most  of  the  other  market- 
places in  Stockholm.  Peaceful  industry  and  peaceful  trades 
have  there  set  out  their  tables,  loaded  with  inland  produce. 

You  may  every  day  witness  the  silent,  pleasant  bustle  of 
buyers  and  sellers  surrounding  the  tables,  covered  with  every 
thing  necessary  for  the  requirements  of  the  body.  But 
what  you  cannot  see  as  well  as  he  who  lives  at  the  market- 
place, is  how  its  life  begins,  how  it  moves  and  stirs  from 
morning  till  night ;  and  it  is  not  uninteresting  to  contem- 
plate it  now  and  then. 

The  first  groups  that  make  their  appearance  at  early 
dawn,  are  the  breakfast-groups;  the  first  tables  that  are 
laid  out  are  the  coffee-tables.  There  are  two  or  three 
right  in  the  centre  of  the  square.  Comfortably  dressed 
sales-women  present  themselves  with  gigantic  coffee-urns, 
carried  in  enormous  baskets,  wrapped  in  linen  cloth.  Work- 
people gather  round  them  from  all  sides,  each  paying  their 
half-penny,  for  which  they  receive  in  exchange  a  cup  of  the 
steaming  beverage  with  cream  and  a  piece  of  sugar.  Bread 
must  be  bought  separately.  The  breakfast  in  the  open  air 
looks  very  comfortable.  Some  Dalecarlian  peasant  girls 
and  "  Madams,"  i.  e.  women  wearing  bonnets,  make  their 
appearance  at  the  upper  end  of  the  square.  Then  tables 
are  laid  out,  and  are  covered  with  vegetables  and  fruit. 


300  SKETCHES. 

You  may  count  about  twenty  such  tables  in  each  row,  and 
even  he  who  has  seen  the  vegetable  markets  in  other,  more 
wealthy  countries,  has  very  little  reason  to  find  fault  with 
the  good  quality  and  the  variety  of  the  articles  exposed  for 
sale.  Better  cabbage-heads  are  decidedly  not  found  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic ;  nowhere  are  the  carrots 
more  beautiful,  more  sweet,  and  nowhere  can  you  find 
better  potatoes. 

The  vegetables  do  good  to  our  eyes,  they  look  so  fresh 
and  so  crisp.  The  tables  belonging  to  the  fruit-women  are 
not  so  well  furnished,  and  we  see  turnips  and  other  plebeian 
round-heads  intruding  amongst  the  apple,  pear,  and  berga- 
mot  baskets,  in  order  to  fill  up  the  vacant  places  on  the 
tables.  These  vegetable  venders  evidently  consider  them- 
selves to  be  the  aristocracy  of  the  market.  They  wear 
bonnets  and  style  themselves  "Mistress."  Their  group 
occupies  the  upper  part  of  the  square.  Next  after  the  veg- 
etable-sellers come  the  potato-groups  in  small  families  of 
sacks  and  measures.  In  the  centre  thereof  "  Mother  "  is 
seated  upon  a  chair,  sometimes  upon  a  sack  filled  with 
potatoes,  quietly  waiting  for  her  admirers,  who  never  fail 
to  arrive,  carrying  away  one  sack  after  another.  The 
"  Mother  "  of  the  potato-family  does  not  wear  a  bonnet  but 
a  hood.  In  the  third  row  the  fish-women  are  seated,  each 
in  a  wooden  tub  with  a  high  back  to  lean  against,  and  be- 
fore them  large  pails  and  tables  full  of  fish  in  season,  from 
the  Baltic  as  well  as  from  the  Malar  Lake. 

In  the  fourth  row  stand  the  tables  and  bins  filled  with 
all  the  various  kinds  of  Swedish  bread,  of  which  I  will  only 
mention  brown,  sour  bread  (here  called  anchor-stocks),  rye- 
biscuits,  rye  and  wheaten  cakes,  buns,  penny  rolls,  aniseed- 
bread,  French  bread,  almond-bread,  saffron-cakes,  rusks, 
and  twists  of  all  kinds.  A  little  pale  but  sharp-looking 
girl  of  eleven  years  is  sitting  at  one  of  these  tables,  as 
shrewd  and  clever  at  her  business  as  any  "  Madam  "  of 
forty  ;  but  it  is  not  a  good  school.  The  bread-tables  look 


SKETCHES.  301 

inviting  at  a  distance,  but  afford,  upon  closer  inspection, 
subjects  for  less  agreeable  thoughts ;  the  six-stiver  cake  has 
a  hole  in  the  centre  as  large  as  a  small  tea-cup  and  the 
four-stiver  wheaten  bread  is  so  small  and  grav,  and  looks  so 

o        •/  ' 

miserable,  that  if  I  or  my  friend  were  obliged  to  eat  it  I 
believe  that  I  would  first  have  to  moisten  it  with  —  a  few 
tears.  "  Hard  times  for  the  poor,"  people  say,  and  go  past. 
Next  in  order  come  the  flour-stands,  —  small  boxes  on 
wheels,  beside  which  floury  u  Madams,"  sometimes  men, 
covered  with  meal,  weigh  out  the  produce  of  the  mills. 
Here  in  the  vicinity  are  also  seen  pease,  beans,  groats,  etc., 
etc.  Nearly  in  a  line  with  these  come  the  booths  with 
canvas-roofs,  where  a  variety  of  smaller  articles  of  dress, 
from  woolen  socks  up  to  gauze  caps,  toys  for  children,  rib- 
bons, and  all  kinds  of  wares,  are  sold  cheap.  Between  these 
stand  small  tables  with  bread,  sugar-candy,  fruit,  etc.  Lower 
down,  in  a  line  with  all  these  lines,  we  see  the  beef  and 
pork  sellers  at  their  tables,  and  those  who  sell  butter,  and 
eggs,  and  salt-salmon  in  large  tubs.  In  this  neighborhood 
every  thing  is  more  higgledy-piggledy ;  sweetmeats  jostling 
eggs,  and  brooms  poked  in  amongst  the  butter ;  window 
ornaments,  made  of  the  beautiful  reindeer  lichen,  mixed 
with  green  moss  and  red  barberries,  are  thrust  in  be- 

O  * 

tween  turkeys  and  smoked  goose-breasts.  Ragged  women 
are  seen  trudging  in  from  the  forests,  carrying  fresh  spruce- 
fir  branches  and  fragrant  juniper  twigs. 

This  division  of  the  market-place,  commencing  at  the 
Bazaar  —  I  must  apologize  to  its  "  Madams "  for  not 
having  mentioned  them  earlier  —  where  all  kinds  of  nice 
stone-wares  are  exposed  in  groups  for  sale,  is  bounded  by  a 
line  of  one-horse  milk-carts,  where  Dalecarlian  and  rosy 
cheeked  milk-maids,  with  pink  checked  handkerchiefs  on 
their  heads,  are  enthroned  on  their  vehicles,  retailing  the 
beautiful  white  beverage,  which,  alas  !  is  said  to  be  mixed 
sometimes  with  a  little  water.  These  milk-carts  all  turn 
their  backs  towards  the  lane  dividing  the  market-place  into 


802  SKETCHES. 

two  equal  parts.  On  the  other  side  of  this  lane,  you  may, 
especially  on  certain  market  days,  see  the  country-people 
with  large  wagon-loads  of  hay,  grain,  meat,  wooden  uten- 
sils, and  other  produce,  as  well  as  cattle.  Here  is  a  stir 
and  a  life  as  in  an  ant-hill.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  square, 
along  the  houses,  women  and  girls  sit  busy  weaving  wreaths 
of  flowers  and  moss  and  red  whortleberries  to  Jay  upon 
graves,  offering  you  the  fragrant  produce  of  the  forests. 

Here  amongst  the  country  people  you  may  admire  one 
or  more  tall,  fine  figures,  in  their  provincial  dress,  and  the 
little  Swedish  peasant  horses,  with  short-cut,  comb-like 
manes,  small  hoofs  and  heads,  looking  as  if  they  were 
not  capable  of  long  journeys  and  heavy  work,  but  which 
the  Arctic  traveller,  Sir  John  Ross,  avouched  to  be  the 
horses  best  suited  for  an  expedition  to  the  North  Pole. 
The  commerce  in  this  part  of  the  market-place  is  most 
lively  between  the  hours  of  ten  and  twelve.  After  that 
time  the  place  begins  to  get  empty.  Business  is  car- 
ried on  much  longer  in  the  other  part.  About  noon  the 
market-women  take  their  humble  dinner,  each  at  her 
table ;  in  rainy  weather,  under  large  umbrellas.  After 
dinner  they  drink  their  coffee.  This  is  all  very  comfortable 
in  fine  weather,  but  in  rain  and  wind  —  ugh  ! 

We  cannot,  in  contemplating  the  arrangements  here  and 
comparing  them  to  those  which  are  made  for  similar  pur- 
poses abroad,  help  admiring  with  what  few  comforts  and 
small  resources  we  here  in  Sweden  understand  how  to 
work  our  way.  And  yet  here,  more  than  in  many  other 
countries,  some  consideration  and  care  ought  to  be  shown 
those  who  are  every  day  exposed  to  the  rigor  of  the  climate. 

One  cannot  help  wishing  that  these  poor  market-women, 
wives  and  girls,  should  have  the  advantage  of  wooden  floor- 
ing and  a  roof  over  their  head.  When  we  see  them  sitting 
all  day  long  with  their  feet  upon  the  cold,  wet  ground,  their 
head  not  sheltered  against  snow  or  rain,  or  at  best  only  by 
an  old  ragged  umbrella,  while  their  goods  are  not  sheltered 


SKETCHES.  303 

at  all,  we  ought  not  to  wonder  that  in  the  course  of  time  they 
become  bad-tempered,  gouty,  morose,  quarrelsome,  and  — 
which  is  the  case  with  several  of  them  —  ultimately  take 
to  the  brandy  bottle,  to  help  them  to  keep  up  their  spirits, 
and  keep  themselves  warm.  Discomfort  is  the  mother  of 
vice.  Not  exactly  that  the  market-women  here  should 
necessarily  be  driven  to  it.  An  energetic  and  God-fearing 
soul  can  keep  the  body  in  spirits  and  dry,  even  in  the  worst 
weather.  There  is,  for  instance,  amongst  the  market- 
women,  one  whom  I  wish  you  could  know  —  yonder  sub- 
stantial, good-looking  woman,  looking  so  stately  in  her 
butcher's  stall.  She  said  one  day  to  a  young  wife,  who  was 
crying  for  the  loss  of  her  husband,  who  had  died  and  left 
her  alone  with  five  children  totally  unprovided  for :  — 

"  Hearken  to  me,  my  good  Mistress  H .  Do  not  go 

about  in  this  manner,  lamenting  and  crying,  but  go  home ; 
take  off  your  cloak  and  put  on  a  proper  working  dress ;  get 
a  table,  come  here,  and  sell  some  article.  So  I  did  five  and 
twenty  years  ago,  when  my  husband  deserted  me.  All  I 
then  possessed  in  the  world  was  three  children  and  three 
shillings.  But  some  kind  people  advanced  me  the  money 
to  buy  a  pig.  I  carried  it  home  myself,  cut  it  up,  and  came 
here  the  next  day  to  sell  it.  And  here  I  stood  until  I 
could  afford  to  get  my  own  stall.  I  have  now  portioned  off 
and  married  my  three  children ;  I  have  three  servants,  and 
am  the  owner  of  a  stone-house  in  the  north  part  of  the 
town,  and  the  Lord's  hand  is  over  me  all  my  days.  Do  as 
I  did,  exert  yourself  to  the  utmost,  work  and  trust  in  God, 
and  all  will  go  well.  I  shall  myself  give  you  the  first 
handsel ! " 

She  to  whom  this  advice  was  given,  did  follow  it ;  she  is 
now  standing  in  the  market  every  day,  in  high  spirits,  at  her 
pork-table,  and  has  already  verified  the  words  of  her  coun- 
selor. 

But  in  order  to  be  able  to  withstand  the  rough  weather 
and  discomfort  of  a  market  life,  it  requires  not  only  a  soul 


304  SKETCHES. 

firm  as  a  rock,  but  also  iron  health.  Our  market-women 
have  generally  neither  the  one  nor  the  other. 

They  who  in  the  course  of  the  day  first  make  their  exit 
from  the  market-place  after  the  milk-women,  are  the  fish- 
women  and  the  potato  families  ;  then  the  vegetable,  and 
lastly  the  meat-women.  A  few  meat  and  vegetable  stalls 
remain,  however,  until  the  evening.  Those  who  sell  fruit 
and  bread  remain  the  longest.  In  the  afternoon  a  number 
of  men  with  brooms,  and  large  flocks  of  sparrows,  come 
regularly  to  sweep  away  and  feast  upon  the  remains  of  the 
day's  sale.  A  dog  amuses  himself  now  and  then  with 
hunting  the  winged  scavengers,  and  when  he  sees  a  flock 
of  them  he  makes  a  desperate  rush  at  them  ;  but  they  are 
off  like  lightning,  and  he  stands  still,  disconcerted,  until  he 
espies  another  flock,  at  which  he  again  makes  a  rush,  with 
the  same  result.  The  place  becomes  gradually  more  and 
more  empty  and  desolate  ;  there  a  blind  fiddler  is  led  about 
by  a  boy,  to  play  outside  the  various  public  houses ;  the 
brooms  and  the  sparrows  are  at  last  masters  of  the  field ; 
only  on  Saturday  nights  the  sales-women  remain  until  a 
late  hour,  and  we  see  the  light  of  their  small  lanterns 
glimmer  through  the  darkness  in  which  the  whole  scene  is 
shrouded. 

On  Sundays  the  square  is  totally  deserted,  but  thousands 
of  sparrows  appear  to  hold  an  animated  and  spirited  com- 
merce, while  the  dogs  amuse  themselves  with  sparrow- 
hunting. 

As  regards  the  buying  population  of  the  market-place, 
it  oifers  to  the  beholder  little  that  is  characteristic  :  it  re- 
sembles the  market-place  customers  of  all  other  Swedish 
towns.  The  neat  servant-maids,  with  woolen  shawls  and 
black  silk  handkerchiefs  on  their  heads,  and  a  basket  on 
their  arm  ;  the  homely  housewife  with  cloak  and  bonnet, 
carefully  examining  the  various  goods  before  buying  them  ; 
the  old  gentleman,  who  wants  a  tidbit  for  his  own  and 
his  family's  dinner,  and  who  carries  off  a  bird  and  some 


SKETCHES.  305 

vegetables ;  the  servant-maid,  who  walks  home  with  a 
large  sucking-pig  in  her  arms  ;  the  little  girl,  who  buys 
a  hnlf  measure  of  potatoes,  an  onion  and  three  turnips,  a 
pennyworth  of  parsley  and  rusks,  a  skein  of  cotton  thread, 
a  piece  of  gingerbread  and  a  Danish  lollipop,  and  stows  it 
all  away  in  her  little  bag,  or  "  pirate,"  of  plaited  straw ; 
the  urchin,  who  thumbs  all  the  apples  before  he  buys  one  — 
you  know  all  these  figures,  and  can  see  them  every  day  in 
every  market  here  in  town.  But  what  you  do  not  see  every 
day  nor  everywhere,  is  a  little  man,  walking  upon  four  legs, 
and  accompanied  by  three  large  dogs.  Him  I  saw  just 
now  crossing  the  market-place  upon  two  wooden  legs  and 
two  legs  of  flesh  and  bone  paralyzed.  It  is  the  horse- 
butcher,  or  rather  horse-friend  and  poet,  Ekeblad,  an  orig- 
inal ;  and  it  would  be  well  if  we  had  many  such  in  this 
town  and  in  the  world,  not  only  for  the  sake  of  the  poor 
horses,  but  also  for  the  sake  of  those  people  who  suffer 
pain  by  seeing  them  treated  with  cruelty. 

For  it  was  his  love  for  the  brute  creation,  and  his  sym- 
pathy with  that  noble  animal,  the  horse,  which  first  induced 
Mr.  Ekeblad  to  wander  through  our  streets  and  market- 
places like  a  missionary,  to  preach  amongst  cabmen  and 
other  horse-tormentors,  kindness  to  animals.  They  shut 
their  ears  to  him  and  abused  him.  The  horse-friend  then 
began  lecturing  to  the  better  classes  on  the  treatment  of 
animals  —  especially  the  horse.  He  only  got  laughed  at, 
and  was  left  to  lecture  to  empty  walls.  The  Swedes  are 
not  more  harsh  or  cruel  than  other  nations ;  but  we  have 
not  here,  as  in  other  civilized  countries,  any  laws  for  the 
prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals,1  nor  has  attention  been 
publicly  directed  to  their  characteristics,  their  merits,  their 
sufferings  —  to  "  the  sighs  of  the  animals." 

Yet  there  are  in  this  country  many  women  and  men  who 
silently  feel  these  u  sighs."  Foremost  amongst  these  latter 
stands  Mr.  Ekeblad,  for  he  has  not  only  thought  and  pub- 
1  Such  laws  do  now  exist  since  the  year  1857. 


306  SKETCHES. 

licly  complained  in  favor  of  the  animals,  but  he  has  also 
acted  vigorously  in  their  interest.  Not  being  able  by  lec- 
turing to  prevent  the  ill-treatment  of  horses  by  their  selfish 
and  heartless  owners,  he  began  buying  up  all  worn-out  and 
broken-down  animals,  and  slaughtered  them  in  a  way  which 
gave  them  death  without  pain. 

Honor  be  to  this  Christian  horse-friend !  He  has,  under 
hard  struggles  and  with  much  self-sacrifice,  effected  much 
good. 

Having  now  described  my  present  residence  and  the 
prospects  which  it  offers,  I  shall  now  go  back  a  little  in  my 
narrative,  in  order  to  relate  what  I  saw  on  the  26th  of 
April. 

I  was  that  day  not  exactly  out  of  humor.  God  forbid 
that  a  woman  before  she  has  reached  fifty  should  be  out  of 
humor ;  that  is  impossible  !  That  belongs  only  to  old  men 
and  old  women,  doomed  to  take  snuff  and  play  at  "pa- 
tience." But  to  say  the  truth,  I  was  not  quite  in  good  temper. 
I  sat  down  to  my  piano :  it  was  out  of  tune,  or  perhaps  I 
was  out  of  tune  myself.  Even  out  of  the  "  Magic  Flute  " 
came  only  disharmony.  I  had  recourse  to  my  easel.  On 
it  stood  a  portrait  just  finished.  It  stared  at  me  with  a 
squinting,  cross  look.  I  turned  away  from  it  with  disgust, 
and  tried  to  console  myself  by  writing  a  verse,  but  could  not 
find  a  rhyme  for  am ;  dissatisfied,  I  opened  a  book,  but 
could  not  understand  what  I  was  reading.  I  threw  my 
talents  overboard  and  sat  down  at  the  window. 

The  April  wind  played  his  capricious  pranks  in  the  air. 
The  sun,  which  had  only  just  been  shining  out  brightly, 
was  now  hidden  by  clouds,  which  in  their  turn  were  again 
dispersed  by  the  merry  winds,  forming,  in  so  doing,  a  fan- 
tastic triumphal  arch  for  the  King  of  Light.  But  they  re- 
turned thicker  and  darker,  now  hanging  in  heavy  draperies 
upon  the  earth,  anon  beating  it  with  icy  hail-showers,  or 
powdering  it  with  curling  wreaths  of  snow.  Through  their 
gradually  thinning  veil  the  bright,  blue  sky  soon  again 


SKETCHES.  307 

peeped  forth  ;  it  blew,  then  it  became  calm,  the  sky  bright- 
ened and  darkened,  darkened  and  brightened,  exactly  as  in 
the  daily  repeated  comedy  of  "  Love's  Quarrel,"  or  in  life's 
great  wonderful  drama.  A  sudden  severe  hailstorm  com- 
ing on,  I  saw  the  pedestrians  in  the  street,  leading  into  the 
square,  rushing  about  in  wild  dismay  seeking  a  shelter  from 
the  pelting  hailstones.  A  young  servant-maid,  walking 
rather  more  upon  her  dress  than  upon  the  stones  of  the 
street,  came  running  with  a  jug  full  of  cream  and  a  basket 
with  bread  in  her  hands,  stumbled,  spilt  the  contents  of  the 
one  and  dropped  what  was  contained  in  the  other,  all  for 
the  benefit  of  a  lean  dog,  who,  poor  animal,  to  judge  from 
his  insensibility  to  the  hailstones,  must  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  take  his  meals  under  the  accompaniment  of  kicks 
—  the  good  with  the  bad.  With  light  boots  and  a  woeful 
countenance,  an  elegant  gentleman  skipped  across  the 
street  to  a  house,  out  of  whose  window  a  young  lady 
seemed  compassionately  to  contemplate  the  sorely  beset 
hero,  who,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  and  blind  as  the 
little  God  of  Love,  rushed  into  the  arms  of  a  stout  "  Mad- 
am," who,  in  her  innocence,  surely  did  not  think  of  envel- 
oping in  her  cloak  any  body  else  than  her  own  fat  self  and 
her  basket  full  of  gingerbread. 

Here  a  woman,  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  was  hastening 
towards  her  home.  She  unfastened  the  handkerchief  upon 
her  head,  in  order  to  wrap  it  round  the  child.  Mercilessly 
the  hail  was  battering  against  her  brown  curls,  while  in 
front  of  her  two  gentlemen  were  butting  at  each  other  with 
their  umbrellas,  swearing  at  each  other  in  their  blindness 
and  hurry.  An  ancient  horse  was  philosophically  shaking 
his  shaggy  head  at  the  unwonted  noise,  and  being  left  to 
manage  it  according  to  his  own  pleasure,  for  himself  and 
for  the  old  friend  to  which  he  was  harnessed,  —  a  cart,  shaky 
from  old  age  and  long  service,  —  he  found  himself  at  last 
induced  to  do  as  other  people,  to  drag  his  appendix  and 
himself,  with  bent  head  and  drooping  ears,  into  an  open 


308  SKETCHES. 

covered  gate-way.  Three  cats  and  two  dogs  followed  his 
example,  but  in  opposite  directions.  The  sparrows,  those 
little  airy  optimists,  merrily  chirping  under  the  shelter  of 
the  eaves  of  the  houses,  seemed  to  rejoice  that  nothing 
could  upset  their  good  temper. 

Soon  the  street  became  empty.  A  mummy-like  figure 
was  sitting  alone  and  immovable  on  the  steps  of  the  house 
from  which  I  made  my  observations.  She  was  sitting  as 
if  she  did  not  notice  the  hailstones,  staring  straight  before 
her  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  feel  no  more  interest  in 
any  thing  in  this  world.  The  crutch  lying  beside  her,  and 
the  rags  of  her  tolerably  clean  dress,  seemed  to  explain  to 
me  her  listlessness.  Poor  woman !  I  said  to  myself,  ,she 
is  poor,  old,  decrepit,  abandoned,  and  alone  in  the  world. 
She  has  nothing  more  to  fear,  nothing  more  to  hope.  Why 
should  she  have  looked  out  for  a  shelter  ?  She  may  well 
be  indifferent  about  every  thing.  She  is  a  zero  in  the 
world,  and  to  her  the  world  is  a  zero.  I  was  deceived. 
The  hailstorm  ceased ;  the  clouds  broke,  and  the  sun  shone 
bright  and  warm.  The  old  woman  looked  up  —  so  happy, 
so  gratefully  happy  —  at  life's  light  and  joy.  Her  face,  on 
which  old  age,  sickness,  and  misery  had  left  deep  and  dark 
traces,  still  retained  the  expression  which  the  poet  so 
beautifully  paints :  — 

"  There,  through  sorrow's  bitter  tears, 
And  the  beaming  rays  of  joy, 
Hope,  immortal,  smiles." 

Thus  sat  the  old  woman,  enjoying  what  nobody  envied, 
what  nobody  could  take  away  from  her  —  the  light.  Some- 
body approached  her ;  she  put  out  a  supplicating  hand, 
and  did  not  draw  it  back  empty. 

In  a  summer  garb  more  than  transparent,  a  little  pale 
boy  came  wandering  along  with  downcast  eyes,  past  the 
row  of  houses,  he  and  his  dog  looking  out  for  some  thrown 
away,  but  for  them  precious,  morsel  of  food. 

The  old  woman  beckoned  the  boy  to  come  to  her,  and  with 


SKETCHES.  309 

some  friendly  word  gave  him  the  alms  which  she  had  her- 
self but  now  received.  With  his  hungry  four-footed  friend 
he  hastened,  with  merry  bounds,  to  a  neighboring  baker's 
shop,  where  they  shared  their  luxurious  meal  with  enviable 
appetite  and  delight. 

Their  benefactress  looked  after  them  with  a  pleasant  smile. 
A  few  minutes  afterwards  she  took  a  piece  of  soft  bread 
out  of  her  apron,  and  ate  it  with  evident  enjoyment. 
Again  she  looked  up  to  the  bright  sky,  so  gratefully,  as  if 
she  had  nothing  more  to  wish  for  in  life. 

This  sight  gave  me  something  to  think  of,  and  in  har- 
mony with  the  change  in  the  weather,  my  thoughts  were 
now  the  very  reverse  of  those  which  I  had  entertained  a 
short  time  before. 

This  old  woman,  whom  we  pity,  ought  we  not  rather  to 
deem  her  enviable  ?  She  may  have  what  we  all  of  us 
want,  what  we  all  long  for  —  an  interest  in  every  day.  The 
beginning  of  each  day  offers  to  her  an  eventful  future. 
What  she  receives  at  the  hands  of  the  charitable,  is  to  her 
a  favor  of  fortune,  or  rather  a  mercy  from  Heaven,  who 
does  not  abandon  her  any  more  than  the  sparrow,  which, 
merrily  chirping,  picks  up  the  grain  that  has  fallen  for  him 
to  the  ground.  Jf  occasionally  her  prayer  is  refused,  why 
she  is  used  to  it ;  it  neither  spoils  nor  embitters  her  temper, 
and  wanting  but  little,  she  still  always  gets  that  little. 
What  she  gives  out  of  her  poverty  to  others,  has,  like  the 
widow's  mite,  a  great  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  Great  Judge 
who  examines  the  heart  and  the  will.  She  has  no  cares 
for  the  morrow,  and  no  day  goes  past  which  does  not 
bring  her  some  good,  which  yesterday  she  did  not  expect 
to  get.  Hardened  from  long  habit  against  the  changes  of 
the  weather,  she  suffers  little  from  its  roughness,  whereas 
she  enjoys  undisturbed  and  free  its  more  genial  moments. 

I  believe  that  they  who  live  and  move  about  much  in  the 
open  air,  they  who  frequently  have  no  other  roof  over  their 
heads  than  heaven's  vault,  feel  themselves  more  vividly 
and  more  trustfully  to  be  under  the  protection  of  the  higher 


310  SKETCHES. 

Being,  who,  their  heart  tells  them,  is  up  above.  Just  as  in 
the  new-built  temple  of  Solomon,  the  Lord  manifested 
His  presence  in  a  cloud,  so  in  Nature's  glorious  temple  He 
manifests  Himself  to  us,  even  to  this  day,  in  the  atmosphere 
of  the  high  and  the  holy  which  everywhere  surrounds  us  ; 
and  although  a  cloudy  darkness  still  hides  the  revelation 
to  our  eye,  yet  we  feel  it  in  the  light,  in  the  invisible, 
mighty  wind,  in  all  the  life  which  surrounds  us,  and  the 
hidden  source  of  which  we  are  called  upon  to  feel,  to  pay 
homage  to,  and  to  worship.  The  ever-varying  changes 
of  the  seasons  ;  the  rigor  and  often  splendor  of  winter ; 
spring's  creative  glory ;  summer's  thunder  and  lightning, 
and  its  charms  ;  autumn's  ripening  life,  fogs,  and  fare- 
well festival ;  day,  night,  morning,  evening  —  every  thing 
speaks  to  the  child  of  Nature,  and  spreads  before  its  view 
a  picture  in  the  harmonious  variety  of  which  it  learns  to 
trace  a  heavenly  Master's  hand. 

And  it  was  surely  not  in  the  bosom  of  full  life-giving 
Nature,  where  they  were  created,  these  systems  of  ma- 
terialism, of  eternal  death,  this  nothing  doctrine  of  noth- 
ingness. Spring's  balmy  winds  did  not  fan  the  forehead 
within  which  this  gloomy  phantom  was  born.  It  was 
within  the  dark  walls  of  his  narrow  cell,  while  breathing 
close  and  unwholesome  air ;  it  was  by  the  dim  glimmer 
of  his  midnight  lamp,  that  the  fallen  son  of  light  and  truth 
did  exert  the  whole  power  of  his  ingenuity  to  disclaim  his 
soul,  and  with  it  life's  every  flower.  It  was  there  he  could 
deprive  suffering  and  longing  man  of  the  angel  of  hope, 
and  in  exchange,  give  him  a  skeleton. 

Happy,  immeasurably  happy,  art  thou,  although  poor  and 
despised,  if  Heaven's  light,  which  shines  before  thy  mortal 
eye,  shines  also  in  thy  soul.  How  rich  thou  art !  how  little 
dost  thou  miss !  What  is  it  thou  hast  less  than  the  mighty 
and  the  rich  ?  Want.  What  more  than  they  ?  Content. 

The  golden  grains  of  happiness  are  sown  more  evenly 
than  we  generally  believe ;  perhaps  with  a  more  liberal 
hand  on  that  side  where  earthly  gold  is  not  found. 


SKETCHES.  311 

I  do  not  know  whether  Alexander  the  Great,  or  whether 
the  still  greater  Napoleon,  ever  knew  real  happiness.  I  do 
not  know  whether  the  possession  of  the  whole  world  could 
have  given  them  contentment ;  and  yet  this,  the  highest 
for  which  they  struggled,  which  they  needed,  was  given  to 
a  poor  beggar  woman  in  a  ray  of  sunlight,  and  a  morsel  of 
dry  bread. 

And  I,  who  in  the  silent  shadow  of  an  unnoticed  life 
ought  sooner  to  find  the  hidden  violet  of  happiness,  but 
who  find  so  little  enjoyment  in  many  gifts  of  fortune,  I  feel 
that  I  possess  less  than  thou,  poor  and  yet  wealthy  woman. 
I  have  envied  thee  thy  smile  and  thy  glance  so  free  from 
care. 

By  way  of  penitence  I  will  at  once  make  a  pilgrimage 
across  the  street  to  thee,  saint  of  rags,  and  humbly  offering 
my  little  gift  at  thy  shrine,  earn  from  thee  a  "  God  bless 
you  !  "  "  Amen  !  "  I  shall  say  silently,  and  pray  that  He, 
as  His  best  gift,  may  give  me  thy  patient  contentment.  I 
gave  her  my  mite  and  returned  home. 

In  the  window  opposite,  the  young  gentleman  and  the 
young  lady  stood  side  by  side.  They  smiled.  The  old 
beggar-woman  smiled  with  silent  satisfaction,  and  the  sun 
was  smiling  over  us  all.  My  bad  temper  had  vanished, 
and  I  smiled  likewise. 

THE    SISTERS. 

NOVEL  writers  have  planted  the  world's  fields  full  of  a 
flower  called  love ;  and  every  one,  who,  like  me  at  the  age 
of  ten  years,  has  collected  an  herbarium  of  knowledge  of 
mankind  only  in  their  gardens,  expects  at  his  first  peep 
into  the  real  world  to  see  the  beauteous,  wonderful  flower 
blooming  in  the  verdant  summer  groves  ;  on  the  frozen 
snow-hill ;  in  the  park  ;  on  the  heath  ;  in  the  valley  and  on 
the  mountain-tops ;  at  sea  and  on  shore  ;  in  every  cottage  ; 
in  every  palace,  and  especially  in  the  road-side  inns  —  but, 
like  me,  he  will  be  grievously  deceived. 


312  SKETCHES. 

This  glorious,  eternal  flower,  fed  by  heaven's  purest  dew, 
is  in  reality  very  rare.  I  have  seen  it  growing  in  the  silent 
sanctuary  of  the  breast  of  a  few  noble  people,  there  enno- 
bling and  glorifying  every  thing.  I  have  seen  it  in  a  few 
earthly  homes  create  a  paradise.  Yes,  it  is  found  on  earth, 
this  flower ;  I  know  it  and  I  feel  it. 

But  what  we  do  not  unfrequently  see,  is  a  kind  of  love  in 
idleness,  blooming  for  one  short  summer  and  then  wither- 
ing away  ;  some  passion-flowers  with  four  and  twenty  hours 
of  life ;  and  a  number  of  love-anemones,  which  the  spring 
sun  calls  into  life,  which  come  in  May  and  depart  in  May, 
and  about  all  of  which  trifles  the  world  makes  a  great  fuss  ; 

o  ' 

but  what  we  see  much  more  frequently  is  the  grassy  or 
ploughed  pasture-land  within  or  without  doors,  without  any 
love-anemones  at  all. 

And  then  also  the  novel  writers  have  woven  round  the 
world  a  net  of  golden  threads,  on  which  man  dances  merrily 
along.  These  life-threads  meet,  resist,  follow,  or  cross  each 
other  incessantly  ;  one  finds  everywhere  complications 
and  denouement,  and  consequently  interest ;  nothing  dis- 
jointed ;  nothing  fragmentary  ;  nothing  of  the  knots  of  the 
life-thread ;  nothing  of  this  melancholy  "  we  sit  where  we 
sit,"  which  so  often  occurs  in  reality :  on  the  contrary,  one 
sees  always  progression,  in  prosperity  as  well  as  in  adversity ; 
always  a  contact  of  man  with  his  fellow-men,  full  of  interest ; 
and  I  will  wager  with  you,  young  maiden  with  rosy  cheeks, 
with  you,  young  man  with  downy  chin,  that  you  believe 
you  cannot  take  a  single  step  in  this  world  of  ours,  without 
encountering  people  who  care  for  you  ;  yes,  they  do,  as  the 
spider  cares  for  the  fly  or  the  butterfly  for  the  rose.  You 
may,  it  is  true,  probably  now  and  then  create  some  interest 
in  this  way ;  perchance  frequently  meet  with  people  who 
ask  what  value  you  have  —  in  money ;  but  what  you  will 
meet  with  much  more  frequently  is  a  number  of  peo- 
ple who  each  of  them  look  after  their  own  selves,  and 
their  bag  and  baggage,  but  who  do  not  care  for  each  other, 


SKETCHES.  313 

or  for  you,  more  than  for  the  man  in  the  moon,  and  some- 
times still  less. 

Tt  is  in  the  miniature  copies  of  the  world's  large  posting- 
house,  where  the  truth  of  this  sad  sketch  is  forced  upon 
your  experience  with  glaring  colors ;  and  in  order  to  illus- 
trate this,  I  will  here  tell,  especially  for  the  benefit  of  those 
who  have  never  been  at  an  hotel  or  a  road-side  inn,  how, 
one  fine  day,  towards  the  close  of  September,  two  hand- 
some carriages,  containing  a  mother  with  her  three  daugh- 
ters, son,  and  a  nephew  with  moustaches,  stopped  at  the 
door  of  the  hotel  at  the  Falls  of  Trollhattan  ;  how  these 
travellers,  after  having  ordered  supper  and  lodgings  for  the 
night,  proceeded,  as  it  becomes  civilized  people  eager  for 
enlightenment,  to  see  the  locks,  while  they  philosophized 
over  man's  genius  to  create  water  where  formerly  stood 
mountains ;  and  how  they,  thereupon,  during  all  kinds  of 
pleasant  chat,  went  to  view  the  roaring  waterfalls,  in  order 
to  fall,  as  becomes  thinking  people,  into  deep  meditations 
at  the  wonders  of  Nature ;  and  how  at  the  the  Gullo  cata- 
ract, in  one  of  the  daughters,  who,  besides  very  round  cheeks 
had  also  been  gifted  with  a  poetical  vein,  all  kinds  of 
thoughts  arose,  bedewed  with  the  misty  spray  of  the  water- 
fall, but  from  which  thoughts  she  hoped  that  one  day  the 
mist  might  roll  away,  so  as  to  discover  some  outlines  of  cer- 
tain "  Sketches." 

It  is  further  worth  remarking,  how  the  cousin  with  the 
moustaches  not  only  fell  into  a  deep  reverie  on  the  Tappo 
cataract,  but  was  on  the  point  of  falling  into  it  himself,  and 
how  thereupon  the  whole  company  walked  back  to  the 
hotel,  installed  themselves  in  apartments  No.  G  and  7  and 
8  and  9  and  10,  drank  tea  and  ate  sandwiches,  amidst  the 
sound  of  merry  laughter  and  pleasant  chat. 

From  another  quarter  two  Englishmen,  returning  from  a 
shooting  excursion,  thoroughly  soaked  and  bespattered  all 
over,  but  in  "  high  spirits,"  let  off  their  fowling-pieces  at 
the  hotel  door,  and  took  possession,  with  a  vast  deal  of  noise 


814  SKETCHES. 

and  bustle,  of  room  No  11,  where,  on  the  untuned  strings 
of  a  harp,  they  struck  distracting  discords,  at  which  one  of 
the  daughters  in  the  adjacent  room,  who  had  a  wonderfully 
acute  musical  ear,  grumbled  a  good  deal,  which  did  not 
prevent  the  friend  of  disharmony  from  jingling  and  twang- 
ing until  midnight. 

In  No.  1  a  dear  papa  gave  his  two  daughters  a  spir- 
itual gymnastic  exercise :  "  Have  you  brought  up  the 
portfolio  ? "  —  "  Yes,  dear  papa."  —  "I  hope  you  have  not 
forgotten  the  travelling-map  in  the  carriage  ?  " —  "  No,  dear 
papa." — "  Where  is  my  pipe  ?  " — "  Here,  dear  papa." — "  Do 
not  stand  there,  Wendla,  and  look  foolish  ;  sew  fast  my  star 
to  my  coat ;  do  you  hear  ?  " —  "  Yes,  dear  papa." —  "  Fanny, 
have  you  ordered  tea  ?" — "  Yes,  dear  papa." — "And  coffee 
for  Wendla,  and  ale-posset  for  me  ?  "  —  "  Yes,  dear  papa." 
"And  bread  and  butter  and  beef?  you  think  of  nothing; 
I  must  manage  every  thing.  See  now  that  you  sleep  soundly 
and  well  to-night,  so  that  we  may  be  ready  for  travelling 
a  little  early  to-morrow  morning." 

In  No.  3  a  young  gentleman  was  writing  his  "  travelling 
impressions,"  beginning  with  these  words :  "  I  am  now  writ- 
ing" .  .  .  (for  posterity  he  thought,  —  so  I  suppose). 

In  No.  5  two  young  fellows  were  playing  at  cards,  and 
drinking  punch  ;  they  found  it  good,  and  they  thought  with 
Kaja  in  "  Noah's  Ark,"  —  l 

"  I  think  our  world  is  the  best  of  worlds, 
For  far  far  worse  in  Hamburg  it  is." 

In  No  15  a  married  couple  sat  conversing  in  the  beau- 
tiful moonlight.  Of  the  subject  of  their  conversation  we 
can  judge  best  by  the  words  which  were  most  frequently 
heard  in  the  course  thereof:  "Expenses,  income,  living, 
hard  times,  electoral  sheep,  pigs,  corn-brandy,  barm,  steward, 
eggs,  butter,  milk,  pork,  cow-houses,  and  barns."  My  young 
readers,  I  could  go  on  until  to-morrow,  reciting  all  the 
1  A  satirical  poem  by  Bishop  Fahlcrantz. 


SKETCHES.  315 

various  subjects  of  conversation,  and  still  not  find  place  for 
the  word  love. 

In  No.  18  somebody  was  continually  yawning  and  ring- 
ing the  bell,  seeming  desirous  of  coming  in  contact  with 
the  other  inmates  of  the  hotel,  but  these  (as  it  often  happens 
in  similar  cases)  did  not  seem  inclined  to  come  in  contact 
with  him.  Still  he  made  the  landlady's  seven  chamber- 
maids chase  each  other  up  and  down  the  stairs. 

In  No.  20,  a  small  and  dismal  room,  a  mother  was  sitting 
beside  her  child's  sick-bed.  The  landlady  entered  to  speak 
with  her  about  her  new  arrivals,  and  to  give  the  pale, 
poorly  dressed  stranger  a  hint  to  continue  her  journey  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible. 

Her  eye  lighted  upon  the  child,  whose  sleep  was  dis- 
turbed by  frequently  returning  cramp-attacks,  and  she 
exclaimed  :  "  Lor  !  what  is  the  matter  with  the  brat  ?  It 
won't  live  till  to-morrow,  I  can  tell  you  ! "  The  poor  mother 
bent  over  her  child  with  kisses  and  tears.  The  landlady 
went  on  :  "  If  you  were  to  put  a  blister  upon  its  head  ;  or 
gave  it  some  '  Hoffman's  Drops ; '  or  put  it  in  a  bath,  — 
or  if  we  could  make  it  swallow  some  camomile-tea  —  but 
what  at  all  events  is  certain,  is,  that  it  won't  live  over  the 
night ;  but,  if  you  could  afford  it,  you  might  buy  a  bottle 
of  French  wine."  .... 

The  stranger  interrupted  her,  by  asking  how  far  it  was 

to  Werna,  where  the  Ladies  L were  living,  and  whether 

a  messenger  could  be  found  at  once,  to  send  on  to  them  ? 

"  About  thirteen  miles,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  a  messen- 
ger you  can  certainly  get ;  but  my  dear  little  lady,  if  you 
believe  that  you  can  get  any  assistance  from  the  "  Ladies  at 
"Werna,"  you  are  mightily  mistaken.  They  are  proud  and 
hard-hearted  people." 

"  That  is  not  true,"  interrupted  the  stranger  with  vehe- 
mence. 

"  Not  true ! "  rejoined  the  landlady,  much  offended. 
"  Whether  it  is  true  or  not,  I  ought  to  know  best,  who  have 


316        .  SKETCHES. 

myself  asked  a  favor  of  them  and  have  been  refused,  get- 
ting well  moralized  by  Lady  Helena  into  the  bargain.  Not 
true !  I  ought  to  know  it  best,  who  have  had  a  step-daugh- 
ter in  their  service.  Not  true !  very  well,  go  to  them,  go 
to  them,  and  you  will  see  yourself  whether  I  tell  any 
stories.1  You  will  be  shown  the  door,  as  well  as  others. 
Go !  go  i " 

"  Had  not "  —  the  stranger  asked  in  a  tone  of  deep  dejec- 
tion —  "  had  not  the  Ladies  L a  sister  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  but  she  has  been  absent  many  years, 
and  I  would  not  advise  her  to  return  to  her  sisters,  unless 
she  were  very  wealthy  or  married  to  some  Prince,  for  other- 
wise they  won't  acknowledge  her.  They  are  very  proud 
women ;  they  associate  only  with  grand  folks,  and  live  in 
style.  They  have  a  ball  to-night." 

"  To-night !  "  said  the  stranger. 

"  Yes,  and  they  have  one  every  Sunday  night ;  I  say 
nothing,  I ;  but  still  I  think  that  on  the  Lord's  day  one 
ought " — 

The  stranger  here  interrupted  her,  peremptorily  desiring 
to  be  furnished  with  writing  materials  and  a  candle,  and  to 
get  a  messenger,  who  would  for  payment  undertake  to  go 
at  once  to  Werna. 

"  Oh,  certainly ! "  replied  the  landlady,  with  a  taunting 
•  sneer,  "  I  won't  be  in  the  way  of  your  fortune." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards,  the  stranger  sat  beside 
a  wretched  candle,  writing  in  feverish  haste.  The  faint 
light  fell  upon  her  pale  and  sunken  cheeks.  She  was  the 
very  image  of  suffering. 

The  messenger,  Mother  Bengta,  was  now  ready  to  go  to 
Werna,  to  which  place  she  also  had  an  errand  on  her  own 
account,  and  the  last  bank-note  was  transferred  from  the 

1  Excuse  me,  my  good  woman,  you  do  tell  a  story,  and  a  friend  of  truth 
must  here  bear  witness,  that  you  look  upon  the  sisters  at  Werna  in  such  a 
dark  light  only  because  they  refused  your  request  to  become  security  for 
one  of  your  sons,  who  wished  to  set  up  in  business  as  a  tradesman,  but  who 
was  well  known  to  be  a  good-for-nothing  fellow. 


SKETCHES.  317 

stranger's  pocket-book  to  Mother  Bengta,  in  payment  for 
her  trouble  with  the  letter,  which  with  real  agony  she  en- 
joined her  to  take  good  care  of  and  to  deliver  without  loss 
of  time. 

She  then  turned  again  to  the  child,  which  had  just  awak- 
ened. 

"  How  the  waterfall  roars,"  said  the  little  one ;  "  I  feel 
so  uneasy,  mamma  !  take  me  upon  your  knee ;  I  shall  rest 
better  there." 

"  How  are  you,  my  child  ?  "  —  "  Better,  mamma  ;  I  have 
had  such  a  beautiful  dream ;  I  saw  an  angel  and  a  bright 
light — mamma,  you  're  weeping ;  kiss  me.  How  the  water- 
fall roars !  sing  to  me  the  song  about  the  North,  mamma,  so 
that  I  may  not  hear  that  roar ;  when  you  sing  to  me,  time 
flies  quicker." 

The  mother  sang,  and  when  she  came  to  the  last  lines, 
she  sang  so  slowly  and  with  deep  emotion  :  — 

O  thou  glorious  North 

That  a  cradle  me  gave, 

In  thy  well-beloved  earth 

Let  me  sleep  in  my  grave ; 

With  my  little  one  dreaming 

Where  the  snow-drifts  are  gleaming. 

And  thus  she  sat  all  night,  rocking  her  child  upon  her 
lap,  slowly  singing. 

Meanwhile,  Mother  Bengta  was  trudging  goose-fashion 
along  the  road  to  Werna.  Have  you,  dear  reader,  ever 
known  persons  who  were  wonderfully  clever  at  the  trick 
of  losing  every  thing  ?  It  is  a  curious  spectacle !  They 
begin,  for  instance,  with  dropping  their  pocket-handkerchief; 
and  when  they  stoop  down  to  pick  it  up,  they  drop  a  key, 
a  glove,  or  a  letter,  or  a  memorandum-book,  or  the  pocket- 
handkerchief  a  second  time  ;  and  if  they  do  not  drop  their 
nose,  it  is  merely  because  they  do  not  have  it  in  their  hands. 
Mother  Bengta  was  one  of  those  persons,  gifted  with  a 
similar  talent,  and  after  having  (on  her  way  to  Werna,  be- 
ginning with  her  garter)  gone  through  the  aforesaid  drop- 


318  SKETCHES. 

ping  process,  she  arrived  there  at  last,  minus  the  letter  so 
anxiously  recommended  to  her  care.  She  looked  for  it 
everywhere,  but  it  could  not  be  found. 

The  early  morning-sun  shone  upon  scenes  of  various 
kinds  at  the  Trollhatta  Hotel. 

"  Dear  papa  "  in  No.  1,  loaded  his  daughters  with  pack- 
ages and  books  to  be  deposited  in  the  carriage.  "  Can  you 
carry  any  thing  more  ?  "  he  asked  one  of  his  daughters, 
whose  head  was  just  visible  above  the  pyramid  of  packages 
which  she  was  carrying  in  her  arms.  "  Yes,  with  my  nose," 
she  replied  with  that  good-natured  and  merry  laugh,  such 
as  buoys  up  body  and  soul,  and  two  books  were  accordingly 
confided  to  the  care  of  the  little  nose. 

The  two  Englishmen  went  out  shooting,  singing  at  the 
top  Of  their  voices,  without  looking  even  with  half  an  eye 
at  "  Gullon,"  standing  there  in  the  golden  sunshine  so  glo- 
rious with  its  yellow  autumn  birches  and  evergreen  firs, 
while  the  cataract,  roaring  and  foaming,  rained  showers  of 
sparkling  diamonds  upon  its  mossy  banks. 

The  youngster  in  No.  3  tried  to  rub  the  sleep  out  of  his 
eyes ;  he  began  slowly  dressing,  and  while  looking  at  him- 
self in  the  looking-glass,  he  muttered :  "  My  dear  Figge  I 
thou  art  certainly  not  so  very  handsome,  but  thou  art  not 
so  very  ugly  either." 

The  refined  and  interesting  family's  travelling-carriages 
drove  up  to  the  door.  My  lady-mother  and  her  two 
daughters,  each  with  her  reticule,  took  their  seats,  rejoic- 
ing at  the  beautiful  morning,  while  the  third  daughter  went 
with  her  brother,  who  was  to  pay  the  heavy  bill,  in  order  to 
assist  him  in  trying  to  beat  down  the  exorbitant  charge, 
which  object  —  so  his  future  wife  will  no  doubt  one  day 
say  —  was  quite  contrary  to  the  young  gentleman's  nature. 

The  landlord  and  landlady  were  not  visible,  but  their 
seven  servant-girls  stood  all  in  a  heap  to  defend  the  bill. 

"  Nothing  could  be  abated ;  that  was  utterly  impossi- 
ble ! "  His  sister,  the  sage  Hulda,  moralized  and  demon- 


SKETCHES.  319 

strated  ;  the  brother  looked  black  and  fierce  ;  all  in  vain 
—  the  bill  did  not  gi'ow  less,  and  from  the  ranks  of  the 
seven  servant-girls  was  heard  a  low  growling  about  "  a 
shabby  company,  that  wants  to  bargain."  Then  stalked  in 
through  the  open  door  the  cousin  with  the  moustaches, 
looking  awful  and  threatening ;  but  he  ended  by  strutting 
with  large  strides  through  the  kitchen,  thundering  between 
his  teeth  :  "  This  is  scandalous  ! " 

Then  the  brother  made  a  tack  or  two  round  the  seven 
servant-girls,  who,  in  some  alarm,  had  gathered  in  a  knot 
in  the  middle  of  the  kitchen  floor,  while  he  repeated  with 
the  calmness  of  despair  :  "  This  is  a  confounded  shame  !  " 
whereupon  all  three  sailed  out  of  the  kitchen  to  the  car- 
riages, in  which  the  fresh  morning  soon  made  them  for- 
get their  night's  lodgings,  the  exorbitant  charge,  and  the 
league  of  the  servant-girls. 

When  the  bright  beams  of  the  morning  sun  looked  in 
through  the  window  of  No.  20,  an  angel  bore  away  a  little 
child's  spirit,  and  carried  it  to  the  throne  of  the  Almighty. 

With  her  child's  lifeless  body  in  her  arms,  the  mother 
sat,  closing  with  kisses  the  eyelids  of  the  beautiful,  now 
lustreless,  eyes,  and  as  she  had  sat  all  night  with  her  child 
in  her  arms,  so  she  sat  all  day,  rocking  it  silently. 

Towards  evening  she  asked  whether  any  messenger  had 
arrived  for  her  with  a  letter,  —  but  none  had  arrived.  On 
the  second  day  old  Mother  Bengta  returned,  stoutly  assert- 
ing that  she  had  delivered  the  letter,  but  that  she  had  re- 
ceived no  answer. 

One,  two,  three,  four  —  five  days  passed,  and  the  stranger 
wandered  about,  pale  as  a  ghost,  without  either  eating, 
drinking,  or  sleeping ;  only  asking,  ever  and  anon  :  "  Is 
there  no  letter  for  me  ?  "  On  the  sixth  day  she  laid  her 
little  child,  with  the  aid  of  the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  in 
its  silent  grave,  and  when  it  was  buried,  a  light  covering  of 
snow  spread  itself  over  the  tiny  hillock,  and  it  comforted 
the  heart  of  the  poor  mother.  Long  she  sat  beside  the 


320  SKETCHES. 

grave,  and  suffered  the  snow-flakes  to  fall  upon  her  bare 
head.  Then,  with  faltering  steps,  she  dragged  herself  back 
to  the  hotel,  asking  again  :  "  Is  there  no  message,  no  letter 
for  me  ? "  But  there  was  none.  Then  sickness  laid  its 
hand  upon  her  heart  and  head,  and  whispered  to  her 
agonized  soul,  Enough  !  enough  ! 

,  Sickness,  bodily  pain  !  Thou  hast  been  called  an  evil 
upon  earth,  but  thou  art  often  a  good  and  salutary  balm, 
under  whose  influence  the  soul  finds  rest  after  its  hard  bat- 
tle, and  the  raging  tempests  are  stilled.  More  than  once 
hast  thou  prevented  suicide,  or  saved  from  madness.  The 
fearful,  the  bitter  words  which  disappointed  expectation  and 
deluded  hope  have  written  upon  our  heart,  are  gradually 
defaced  in  the  dark  and  feverish  dreams  of  sickness.  The 
terrors  which  lately  were  so  near,  fly  far  away  from  us,  — 
we  forget,  thank  God  !  We  forget,  and  when  at  last  weak 
and  tottering,  we  arise  from  a  bed  of  sickness,  our  soul 
often  awakens  as  from  a  long  night  to  a  new  morning. 

While  we  are  waiting  for  this  new  morning  to  dawn  upon 
our  poor  sufferer,  let  us  spend 

AN    EVENING    WITH    THE    SISTERS    AT    WERNA. 

The  customary  little  Sunday  night's  dance  was  over,  and 
the  young  boarders,  after  lovingly  kissing  and  embracing 
their  kind  governesses,  had  retired  to  their  respective  dor- 
mitories. 

The  candles  were  put  out;  the  cold  November  wind 
whirled  the  snow-flakes  round  in  mad  gambols,  but  the 
autumn  .night's  cosy  fire  was  burning  with  a  bright  flame, 
throwing  its  cheering  light  round  the  room,  in  which  the 
sisters,  Helena  and  Amelia,  were  sitting  in  their  easy  chairs 
on  each  side  of  the  stove,  from  which  the  light  fell  upon 
their  kindly  thoughtful  faces. 

Once,  contemplating  an  elderly  lady's  sad  countenance, 
which  seemed  to  bear  the  stamp  of  a  joyless  life,  I  thought, 
Oh !  how  much  that  is  beautiful  remains  undeveloped  in 


SKETCHES.  321 

the  face  of  the  woman,  who  has  never  experienced  the 
blessing  of  life's  joy,  of  a  pure,  happy  love ;  it  resembles 
the  soil  upon  which  no  ray  of  the  sun  has  fallen,  and  which, 
therefore,  brings  forth  only  sickly  colorless  flowers.  But 
in  contemplating  these  two  sisters,  I  said  to  myself,  Oh, 
how  beautiful  are  not  the  features  of  those,  who  have  pre- 
served their  soul's  peace  by  patience. 

Earthly  love,  enjoyment,  and  happiness  cannot  thus  make 
the  human  face  a  bright  mirror  of  heaven.     This  alone  — 

O 

Oh  !  do  not  turn  away  thy  glance,  young  woman,  whose 
eye  is  still  beaming  with  youth  and  hope  —  this  alone  can 
the  cross  of  self-denial,  humbly  and  patiently  borne,  do ; 
this  alone  be  reflected  by  a  firm  mind,  sanctified  by  a 
whole  life,  when  it  says  :  "  Thy  will  be  done,  O  Father  !  " 
And  the  sisters  had  said  this,  and  they  had  borne  the  cross. 
When  one  day  they  become  glorified  angels,  they  will  per- 
haps appear  with  more  beautiful  features ;  but  this  look,  so 
bright,  so  serene,  this  smile,  so  gentle,  so  kind  —  can 
heaven's  children  have  one  more  beautiful  ?  I  do  not 
believe  it ;  for  the  angel  was  already  there  in  the  sisters' 
souls,  and  smiled  and  looked  out  of  them,  blessing  earth. 
There  were  lines  on  their  foreheads ;  their  eyes  were 
sunken  ;  there  were  traces  of  suffering  on  their  cheeks  ;  but 
the  spirit  of  humble  submission  had  passed  over  all  and  had 
chased  away  all  gloom.  But  not  only  the  soul's  beauty 
and  peace  lay  spread  over  the  faces  of  the  sisters ;  for 
especially  when  they  spoke,  there  sparkled  a  ray  of  lively 
humor,  of  that  quiet,  good-natured  temper,  which  I  believe 
we  begin  to  feel  when  the  stormy  season  of  passion  is  past, 
and  we  submit  to  let  alone  what  cannot  be  altered ;  when 
we  take  man  as  he  is,  and  put  the  best  face  upon  things, 
and,  above  all,  when  we  do  not  allow  the  minor  business 
of  life  to  irritate  us,  or  become  annoyed  at  petty  vexations. 
We  have  much  to  combat  with  before  we  arrive  at  this  de- 
lightful peace  of  mind,  but  the  sisters  have  communicated 
to  me  the  prescription,  which  they  have  themselves  made 
21 


322  SKETCHES. 

use  of,  and  this  was  to  consider  the  Disposer  of  their  fate  as 
more  clear-sighted  than  they  themselves,  and  mankind  often 
troubled  with  a  cataract ;  and  therefore,  in  misfortunes  and 
troubles,  which  they  had  to  suffer  in  consequence  of  other 
people's  hostility  and  errors,  they  merely  remarked :  "  If 
they  saw  clearer,  they  would  act  differently !  " 

Jn  the  sky  it  is  so  arranged,  that  when  all  darkening 
clouds  are  swept  away,  the  sun  will  shine  out,  or  the  stars 
will  twinkle ;  and  in  the  same  manner,  when  clouds  of  doubt 
or  bitterness  no  longer  hide  the  soul's  heaven,  the  mild 
bright  light  of  cheerfulness  will  shine  forth,  and  in  its  rays 
are  kindled  these  lively  fancies,  this  innocent  mirth,  these 
merry  jests,  of  which  the  airy  and  animating  fire-works  of 
every-day  life  are  composed. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  sisters,  opposite  the  fire- 
place, a  young  girl  was  seated  on  a  low  stool,  her  head 
leaning  upon  her  small  hand.  She  was  watching,  with  a 
pensive  mien,  the  dancing  flames,  which,  to  judge  from  the 
expression  of  her  face,  spoke  to  her  more  of  life's  play 
than  of  life's  earnestness.  She  was  pretty,  eighteen  years 
old,  and  her  name  —  Emma. 

To  her  Helena  turned  round,  after  a  short  pause  in  the 
conversation,  opened  her  lips,  and  began  as  follows :  — 

"  I  have  got  a  Bible  for  you,  my  dear  Emma.  You  shall 
take  it  with  you  when  you  part  from  us.  I  think  you  can 
find  a  place  for  it  in  your  portmanteau." 

"  And  I  have  got  a  large  cookery-book  for  you,"  said 
Amelia,  with  an  arch  smile  ;  "  you  must  not  forget  to  take 
that  with  you,  also.  It  must  not  be  said  that  you  come 

from  the  sisters  L 's  house,  soon  to  enter  your  own, 

without  being  well  provided  with  that  which  can  teach  you 
how  to  become  a  clever  housewife  and  mistress  in  your 
own  home." 

"  As  to  your  housekeeping,"  chimed  in  Helena,  "  it  is 
necessary  that  you  should  always  attend  carefully  and  have 
an  eye  to  the  garret,  the  cellars,  and  the  kitchen,  and  keep 


SKETCHES.  323 

a  sharp  lookout  after  the  cook.  But  be  careful,  my  dear 
child,  not  to  make  all  the  fuss  and  bustle  that  so  many  mis- 
tresses are  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  from  morning  till 
night  One  would  think  that  no  fire  could  be  lit  and  would 
burn,  and  no  fish  could  be  fried,  without  their  poking  their 
nose  into  every  thing.  Believe  me,  the  cook  pestered  by 
her  mistress,  while  she  herself  is  bustling  about  amongst 
her  pots  and  pans,  will  do  her  work  much  worse  than  if 
she  were  left  to  manage  for  herself.  Let  every  body  in  a 
household  rule  and  govern  in  his  own  province,  while  the 
head  thereof,  that  is  to  say,  the  housewife,  superintends  and 
rules  the  whole.  But  to  do  this  properly,  she  must  be 
herself  a  pattern  of  order  and  regularity." 

"  Above  all,"  observed  Amelia,  "  it  is  necessary  to  be 
strict  and  even-tempered  in  your  treatment  of  the  servants. 
They  ought  each  of  them  to  have  their  certain  and  dis- 
tinct duties,  and  be  kept  to  them  strictly,  but  with  kind- 
ness." 

"  So  that  not,"  interrupted  Helena,  "  as  I  have  seen  it 
somewhere,  when  any  thing  is  to  be  done,  the  man-servant 
tells  the  lady's  maid  to  do  it ;  the  lady's  maid  tells  the 
house-maid ;  the  house-maid  tells  the  cook ;  and  the  cook 
tells  the  scullery-maid  ;  and  that  at  last  the  mistress  has  to 
light  the  fire  herself." 

"  Besides,"  said  Amelia,  "  there  is  a  certain  quiet,  regu- 
lar clock-work  in  household  affairs,  which  is  much  to  be 
recommended.  And,  moreover,  that  part  of  the  house 
which  is  occupied  by  the  family,  ought,  if  possible,  in  so 
far  to  resemble  a  fairy  palace,  that  every  thing  in  it  is  kept 
in  the  greatest  order ;  free  from  every  particle  of  dust ; 
perfectly  clean  and  ready,  without  any  body,  except  the 
fairy  herself,  knowing  how  and  when  all  has  been  man- 


"  Yes,"  said  Helena,  "  by  all  means  manage  so  that  your 
husband  may  never  have  reason  to  complain,  like  Captain 
Knock — ,  Knack — ,  I  forget  his  name,  who  never  observed 


324  SKETCHES. 

when  his  room  was  scoured,  except  when  he  stumbled 
over  the  water-pail." 

"  To  praise  in  proper  time  and  to  blame  in  proper  time," 
remarked  Amelia, "  is  an  effective  means  by  which  a  house- 
wife can  use  her  influence.  I  have  heard  many  complaints 
made  in  this  world  about  servants,  but  I  have  almost  always 
noticed  that  the  principal  fault  which  caused  all  the  com- 
plaint, was  owing  to  the  master  and  mistress  themselves. 
Wherever  those  who  are  to  command  are  morally  and  in- 
tellectually superior,  which,  in  consequence  of  their  higher 
position  in  the  world,  they  ought  to  be,  the  inferiors  will,  if 
they  are  treated  with  justice,  common  sense,  and  kindness, 
in  general  be  not  only  obedient,  but  also  willing,  respect- 
ful, and  often  become  sincerely  attached ;  in  most  instances 
the  faults  of  the  master  or  mis-tress  are  the  cause  of  the 
faults  and  errors  in  their  servants." 

"  You  have,  my  dear  child,"  said  Helena,  "  a  little  fault, 
against  which  I  must  warn  you,  especially  on  account  of 
the  annoyance  which  it  may  cause  your  husband.  You 
think  you  are  always  right,  even  in  the  greatest  trifles,  and 
you  become  therefore  frequently  irritable.  In  such  little 
altercations  a  straw  often  becomes  a  large  forest  and  a 
pin's  head  a  cannon-ball." 

"  Which  often,"  remarked  Amelia,  "  make  a  breach  in  the 
wall  of  domestic  peace." 

"  Alas ! "  continued  Helena,  "  here  in  this  life,  where  so 
many  real  cares  and  misfortunes  can  befall  us,  the  greatest 
wisdom  consists  in  letting,  especially  in  less  important 
matters,  five  be  an  even  number,  in  order  to  preserve 
domestic  peace." 

"  You  have  also,"  said  Amelia,  "  another  little  fault, 
which,  at  your  age,  it  is  important  to  overcome.  This  is  a 
carelessness  in  dress.  How  often  have  we  not  been  ob- 
liged to  say  to  you :  '  Emma,  your  shawl  is  all  awry.' " 

"  Or,"  observed  Helena,  "  your  shoe-string  is  broken." 

"  Or,"  said  Amelia,  "  your  collar  has  been  put  on  with 


SKETCHES.  325 

vhe  wrong  side  out,  or,  your  dress  looks  more  gray  than 
white !  My  dear  child !  you  cannot  imagine  what  a  dis- 
comfort a  woman  brings  with  her  who  is  disorderly  in  her 
dress  ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  one's 
self,  or  to  those  who  are  around  us,  to  be  strictly  attentive 
to  the  neatness  of  one's  personal  appearance.  This  atten- 
tion to  neatness  can  supply  the  want  of  beauty,  and  no 
beauty  can  have  any  charms  without  it,  in  the  long  run. 
Remember  the  words  of  a  great  author :  '  God  alone  sees 
the  heart ;  manage  thou  so,  that  also  others  may  see  some- 
thing tolerable.' " 

"  You  have,"  said  Helena,  "  a  quality  for  which  you  can- 
not enough  thank  kind  Nature,  and  which  you  ought  to  try 
to  preserve  through  all  the  changes  in  life,  and  that  is,  a 
cheerful,  happy  temper.  This,  as  it  were,  blows  away  the 
dust  from  the  leaves  of  life's  tree,  and  they  will  grow  all 
the  more  fresh  and  green.  I  have  always  sincerely  pitied 
those  husbands,  whose  wives  have  a  face  like  a  gloomy  No- 
vember day." 

"  Unless,"  interrupted  Amelia,  with  liveliness,  "  the  hus- 
bands themselves  are  the  autumn  wind  which  had  caused 
that  gloom." 

"  Of  course,"  added  Helena,  "  every  season  must  have 
its  own  days ;  but  he  who  is  to  become  our  Emma's  hus- 
band, unites  with  a  noble  character  a  gentle  mind  ;  and  as 
far  as  he  is  concerned,  nothing  will  prevent  her  from  look- 
ing like  a  bright  May-day." 

"  Create  then  a  spring  in  your  home,  my  child,"  said 
Amelia.  "  The  son  of  the  North  has  his  world  in  his  home, 
more  so  than  the  children  of  more  genial  climates.  Nature, 
here  in  our  North,  does  not,  as  in  the  South,  give  to  man 
a  home  in  her  bosom,  and  a  treasure  in  the  sun  and  in  the 
air,  full  of  joy  and  love  of  life.  Severe  and  cold,  she  here 
compels  him  to  seek  a  shelter  against  her  inclemency ; 
and  he  looks  for  it  in  his  home  at  his  hearth.  If  he  does 
not  find  comfort,  delight,  and  love  of  life  there,  then  life  in 


326  SKETCHES. 

this  our  North  is  to  him  nothing  else  than  a  long,  bleak, 
autumn  day.  My  dear  child,  create  a  spring  in  your  home." 

"  And  do  not  forget  the  flowers,  my  little  Flora,"  said 
Helena,  —  "  your  singing,  your  music,  your  painting ;  in  a 
word,  your  talents  are  the  flowers  which  you  must  care- 
fully tend,  to  decorate  with  them  the  altar  of  your  home." 

"  And  then,"  said  Amelia,  "  I  can  predict  that  a  little 
god,  who  thrives  well  amongst  flowers  and  spring,  will 
come  and  build  his  nest  in  your  home :  guess  what  he  is 
called  ? 

Emma  did  not  by  any  means  look  stupid. 

"  Above  all,  my  dear  girl,"  Helena  went  on  to  admonish 
with  gentle  but  deep  earnestness,  "  lay  one  thing  on  your 
heart,  the  only  one  necessary.  Think,  think  often,  of  Him 
who  gave  thee  here  on  earth  a  mission  to  fulfill  and  talents 
to  improve.  Life  is  changing  in  all  its  stages ;  greatness 
and  lowliness,  enjoyment  and  pain,  relieve  each  other  in 
turn ;  if  in  these  changes  we  have  nothing  to  lean  upon, 
we  shall  be  tossed  about  like  a  reed  in  the  wind,  and  this 
support  we  have  only  in  an  enlightened  and  sincere  fear  of 
God.  Pray  every  day  to  Him,  in  whom  alone  is  light,  this 
prayer  so  full  of  wisdom :  '  Enlighten  our  understanding 
in  Thy  knowledge,  and  teach  our  hearts  to  make  Thee  an 
offering  of  true  obedience  ! ' ' 

"  Then,"  said  Amelia,  "  you  shall  in  your  walk  through 
life,  in  all  your  actions,  be  able  to  maintain  that  order,  that 
loving  spirit,  full  of  truth  and  peace,  without  which  a 
woman  never  can  properly  fulfill  her  beautiful  mission  on 
earth.  Your  husband  will  then  lean  upon  you  with  full 
confidence,  in  joy  as  well  as  in  affliction,  and  all  those  who 
surround  you  will,  through  you,  reverence  and  love  true 
Christian  virtue.  In  success  you  will  not  then  become 
proud  and  overbearing." 

"And  in  adversity,"  continued  Helena,  "you  will  not 
allow  yourself  to  be  crushed,  but  have  hope,  and  forget 
yourself  in  order  to  comfort  others." 


SKETCHES.  327 

"  Around  all  life's  joy,"  said  Amelia,  "  you  will  spread 
the  all- beautifying  radiance  of  innocence." 

"  And  in  the  depth  of  your  sorrows,"  continued  Helena, 
"  you  will  not  feel  bitterness,  but  be  able  to  say  with  the 
suffering  '  Vitalis ' "  (here  Helena  unconsciously  clasped  her 
hands,  and  in  her  serene  face  one  could  read  the  pain  and 
the  beauty  of  self-denial  mingled,  while  she  recited  with 
deep  feeling)  :  — 

"  '  Let  my  will-offering  in  thy  sight  find  favor, 

O  Thou !  who  dost  my  inmost  spirit  read ; 
With  love  I  take  the  cup,  nor  will  I  waver 

Whene'er  it  doth  from  thine  own  love  proceed.'  " 

"  And  then,"  said  Amelia,  much  moved,  "  may  the  love 
of  your  fellow-men  and  the  peace  of  God's  angels  follow 
you  through  life ! " 

Emma  wept  and  embraced  her  kind  governesses. 

"  I  will,"  she  exclaimed,  "  become  good,  make  you  happy, 
and  try  to  merit  God's  approbation  and  my  Edward's  love. 
Oh  !  that  my  power  to  do  so  could  equal  my  desire  !  I  often 
feel  anxiety,  when  I  think  of  the  duties  which  await  me ; 
and  I  fear  that  in  the  active  life  upon  which  I  am  about  to 
enter,  while  still  so  young,  I  shall  not  always  be  able  to  dis- 
tinguish the  right  from  the  wrong." 

"  There  is,"  said  Amelia,  "  one  way  of  acting,  one  maxim, 
which,  if  we  follow  it,  will  enable  us  easily  and  surely  to 
accommodate  ourselves  to  all  circumstances  in  life,  accord- 
ing to  the  will  of  the  eternal  Goodness." 

"And  that  is?" 

"  Between  two  different  ways  of  acting,  if  you  would  know 
to  which  you  ought  to  give  the  preference,  weigh  the  conse- 
quence for  the  better  or  the  worse,  and  choose  the  one  which 
promises  to  insure  the  greatest  amount  of  real  happiness.  In 
order  to  arrive  at  clearness  and  certainty  in  your  choice, 
you  require  above  all,  an  enlightened  understanding  ;  but 
of  this  and  how  to  gain  this  understanding  we  have  already 
spoken." 


328  SKETCHES. 

"  And  now,"  said  Helena,  "  go  to  bed  ;  it  is  growing  late, 
and  you  have  heard  a  longer  homily  than  you  may  per- 
haps be  able  to  remember.  Never  mind  your  portmanteau 
to-night ;  I  shall  to-morrow  morning  put  into  it  your  Bible 
and  your  cookery-book,  and  some  trifles  which  we  have 
made  for  you.  Good  night,  my  own  dear  girl." 

Emma  kissed,  wept,  and  thanked,  and  in  the  fullness  of 
her  young  heart  did  so  again  and  again.  There  is  a  period 
in  life,  when  we  think  we  can  never  show  enough  of  grati- 
tude and  love.  Emma  went  away  at  last,  followed  by  the 
sisters'  blessing. 

The  two  sisters  were  now  left  alone.  The  fire  was  burning 
with  expiring  flames,  and  around  them  it  grew  more  and 
more  dark.  The  gale  began  blowing  in  louder  and  louder 
gusts  round  their  dwelling,  intermingled  with  strange  sounds, 
like  human  sighs.  Gradually  their  hearts  were  seized  with 
deep  melancholy.  It  is  so  with  us  in  this  life  when  once 
we  have  experienced  a  deep  sorrow,  that  even  the  smallest 
additional  pain  suffices  to  make  the  old  wounds  bleed  afresh, 
even  if  time  has  succeeded  to  throw  over  them  its  healing 
balm.  Love  and  sorrow  in  our  soul  resemble  the  fire  in 
some  deep  mines ;  it  may  for  a  Jong  time  be  apparently 
smothered,  we  fancy  that  it  is  entirely  extinguished,  but  — 
some  sudden  draught,  some  ashes  dropped,  and  the  flames, 
wild  and  consuming,  will  break  forth  with  redoubled  fury. 

The  two  sisters  had,  during  four  years,  directed  Emma's 
education  ;  she  had  become  dear  to  them,  and  they  felt 
painfully  the  impending  parting.  But  she  would  be  happy, 
and  then,  as  Helena  used  to  say  in  similar  cases,  "  all  was 
well."  But  the  new  impression  of  sadness  which  they  had 
just  experienced,  awakened  within  them  another  feeling 
of  pain,  often  conquered,  but  as  often  returning  with  the 
same  intensity,  and  which  now,  when  their  hearts  were 
stirred,  forced  itself  upon  them  more  vividly  than  ever. 
An  empty  chair  was  standing  between  the  two  sisters,  and 
on  it  their  eyes  were  fixed.  Now  they  were  but  two,  — 


SKETCHES.  329 

formerly  they  were  three.  Cecilia  should  have  sat  there, 
sat  between  them,  if  she  had  not,  blinded  by  love,  contrary 
to  their  advice,  united  herself  to  a  man  who  was  not  worthy 
of  her,  and  allowed  him  to  tear  her  from  their  side  ;  and 
now  rose  again  before  their  fancy  the  sister's  image  in  all 
its  melancholy  beauty.  Cecilia  whom  they  had  so  sincerely 
loved  —  Cecilia  with  her  loving,  warm  soul,  her  rich  natural 
gifts,  had  died  in  a  foreign  country,  poor,  lonely,  and  de- 
serted. Surely,  she  must  have  longed  for  her  home,  have 
tried  in  vain  to  come  back  to  it.  Alas !  she  had  suffered 
alone,  so  long,  so  deeply ;  no  loving  look  had  comforted  her 
in  the  hour  of  death,  no  friend's  hand  had  closed  her  eyes, 
and  she  had  till  the  last  struggled  —  struggled  with  stern 
necessity.  Perchance  she  had  doubted  her  sisters'  tender- 
ness ;  perhaps  she  had  called  them  and  they  had  not  been 
able  to  answer  her.  Oh !  bitter,  bitter  memories.  The  sisters' 
eyes  met ;  they  were  full  of  tears.  Helena  rose,  and,  to 
conceal  her  agitation,  she  seized  the  fire-shovel  to  rake  to- 
gether the  dying  embers  ;  but  while  she  did  so,  anguish  was 
depicted  on  her  features  ;  tear  followed  tear,  and  fell  upon 
the  cold  stone.  Amelia  saw  it ;  she  rose,  embraced  her  sis- 
ter, leant  her  forehead  upon  her  shoulder  and  whispered  : 
"  Cecilia ! " 

They  were  here  interrupted  by  a  servant-girl  who  came 
to  inform  them  that  a  poor  woman  was  standing  in  the 
kitchen,  wishing  to  speak  to  them. 

Helena  desired  the  servant-maid  to  show  the  woman 
into  the  room,  declining  at  the  same  time  her  sister's  pro- 
posal to  have  the  candles  lit,  "  because,"  said  she,  "  her 
eyes  smarted  so  much,  that  she  did  not  think  she  could 
bear  the  light." 

After  a  short  while  the  stranger  entered.  In  the  dying 
light  from  the  fire-place  her  features  could  not  be  distin- 
guished. She  stopped  short  at  the  door,  and  stood  there 
in  the  dusk  like  a  shadow,  silent  and  immovable. 

A  kind  of  awe  came  over  the  two  sisters,  and  with  unea- 


330  SKETCHES. 

siness,  which  betrayed  itself  in  the  tone  of  her  voice,  Helena 
asked  her  what  she  wanted. 

The  shadow  remained  silent ;  but  a  faint  sound,  proceed- 
ing from  the  handle  of  the  door,  showed  that  her  hand, 
which  held  it,  was  trembling. 

Helena  repeated  her  question  in  a  more  serious  tone, 
receiving  an  answer,  but  so  indistinct  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  find  out  any  coherence  in  the  broken  words  and  half 
sentences.  So  much  she  could,  however,  understand,  that 
the  stranger  wanted  some  assistance,  and  that  she  asked  to 
be  taken  into  the  service  of  the  two  sisters. 

With  some  surprise  and  with  some  severity  in  her  voice, 
Helena  said,  that  "  the  proper  time  for  changing  servants 
was  already  past ;  that  they  did  not  want  any  more  servants 
than  those  which  they  had  at  present,  and  that,  besides, 
they  did  not  know  her." 

The  shadow  was  silent,  and  the  sound  proceeding  from 
the  door-handle  became  more  distinct. 

"  Have  you  got,"  asked  Amelia,  "  any  certificate  to  show 
us?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  shadow. 

"  From  whom  ?  "  Amelia  again  inquired. 

"  From  Misfortune,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Helena. 

"  A  shadow  of  what  I  was  formerly." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  From  the  grave,"  sounded  the  answer. 

Not  without  some  impatience  Helena  said :  "  I  do  not 
know  what  your  meaning  may  be  with  these  mysterious 
words.  Say  at  once  what  you  want  and  who  you  are,  if 
you  wish  that  we  should  help  you,  which,  however,  I  doubt 
that  we  shall  be  able  to  do." 

"  If  you  cannot,"  the  shadow  said  slowly,  "  nobody  can  ;  " 
and  in  a  lower  tone  she  added,  "  Do  they  then  not  know 
me  by  my  voice  ?  " 

"  God  can  help,"  said  Helena,  "  where  mortals  do  not 


SKETCHES.  331 

see  their  way  ;  if  we  only  confide  in  Him,  and  pray  to  Him 
with  a  humble  mind." 

"  God  helps  by  man  or  by  death,"  answered  the  shadow. 
"  If  the  former  casts  me  off,  I  must  seek  my  refuge  in  the 
latter." 

"Those  are  very  sinful  words,"  said  Helena,  gravely. 
"  God  allows  no  one  to  despair,  who  trusts  in  Him.  By 
doubt  and  impatience  we  frustrate  our  own  fate." 

The  shadow  here  interrupted  her  in  a  bitter  tone  of 
voice :  "  This  is  beautifully  said ;  't  is  only  a  pity  that  such 
reference  to  God's  mercy  generally  flows  from  a  want  of 
mercy  in  ourselves." 

With  some  indignation  Amelia  exclaimed :  "  We  have 
not  deserved  this.  If  you  have  come  hither  to  insult  us, 
you  only  injure  yourself.  We  cannot  talk  to  you  any 
longer  to-night;  but  the  night  is  dark  and  tempestuous; 
we  will  give  you  a  bed  here  and  food."  She  rang  the  bell, 
and  added  in  a  milder  tone,  "  To-morrow  at  daylight,  we 
may  perhaps  understand  one  another  better.  Go  now  ! " 

"  Go !  "  reechoed  the  shadow  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  go  !  but 
whither,  whither?"  and  suddenly  letting  go  the  handle  of 
the  door,  she  dropped  on  her  knees,  ejaculating  in  a  heart- 
rending voice :  "  Sisters  !  sisters  ! " 

Oh !  God.  Then  it  was  she,  the  lost,  the  beloved,  the 
long  wept-for  sister ;  it  was  Cecilia ! 

Trembling  with  joy  and  fear,  the  two  sisters  would  have 
asked  in  that  moment  whether  there  were  really  spectres; 
whether  the  inhabitants  of  the  grave  can  revisit  the  earth. 
The  sisters  did,  however,  not  ask  these  questions ;  the  first 
agitating  impression  which  they  experienced  was :  It  is  her 
spirit ;  but  then  they  thought :  To  her,  to  her,  even  if  she 
came  out  of  the  grave ;  and  under  an  irresistible  impulse 
they  hastened  with  open  arms  to  the  kneeling  form,  with 
feelings  in  which  heavenly  joy  and  terror  were  mingled. 
Unable  to  speak,  the  three  sisters  embraced  each  other. 
.  O  Death !  if  thou  then  hadst  taken  them  in  thy  arms, 


332  SKETCHES. 

thy  bitterness,  thy  pangs  would  not  have  been  felt,  and  no 
look  of  regret  would  they  have  turned  back  to  the  friendly, 
earthly  home.  Regret?  yes,  for  who  can  deny  that  it  is 
good  and  beautiful  to  live  here  in  this  world,  when  we  have 
there  built  a  bright  and  peaceful  home ;  when  every  day 
that  passes  leaves  behind  a  kindly  memory ;  when  every 
day  that  dawns  upon  us  is  greeted  with  silent  hope. 
When  life,  notwithstanding  all  its  shadows,  still  has  a 
bright  side,  then  death,  at  least  for  a  while,  appears  to  us  a 
dark  angel.  But  it  was  not  now  death  which  reunited 
the  sisters  ;  it  was  life,  it  was  joy. 

And  when  they  arrived  at  the  full  consciousness  thereof, 
when  they  found  themselves  locked  in  each  other's  arms, 
meeting  again  in  a  life  full  of  love,  then  they  felt  what  I 
feel  in  my  heart  for  them. 

I  remember  having  seen  a  beautiful  engraving  of  a 
painting,  in  the  Vienna  gallery  of  paintings,  representing 
the  return  of  the  "  prodigal  son  "  to  the  parental  home. 
The  father  bends  his  head  in  joy,  in  love,  and  in  sorrow 
over  the  son,  who,  kneeling  before  him  and  contrite,  hides 
his  face  upon  his  father's  knees.  Only  a  small  part  of  the 
profile  is  visible — a  large  tear  rolls  slowly  down  the  furrowed 
cheek.  I  will  follow  the  painter's  example,  and  leave  it  to 
the  feeling  and  loving  heart  to  imagine  what  pen  or  pencil 
would  vainly  try  to  tell. 

THE   MORNING. 

Oh !  that  I  were  like  the  ray  of  that  bright  autumnal 
sun,  which,  on  the  morning  after  the  events  which  I  have 
now  related,  peeped  through  the  snow-white  curtains  into 
" Cecilia s  room"  and  that  I  could  shed  the  same  cheerful 
light  and  life  over  my  narrative,  as  that  which  this  ray 
shed  over  the  little  world  in  that  room !  Then  would  my 
reader  exclaim  :  "  It  is  the  home  of  comfort  and  of  bliss  ! " 
Comfort !  Let  me  see  if  with  the  help  of  the  pen  of  the 
blessed  "  Beata  Commonplace,"  which  she  has  bequeathed 


SKETCHES.  333 

to  me,  I  can  make  your  lips  pronounce  this  word,  dear 
reader. 

But  first,  a  general  observation.  There  is  in  our  language 
a  pleasant  little  word  with  a  corresponding  pleasant  idea 
attached  to  it,  and  this  is  u  rum-trefnad," —  "  room-cosiness." 
This  word  expresses  a  thing  which  constitutes  a  part  —  a 
quality  of  the  room  itself,  and  which  makes,  that  in  it  a 
feeling  of  delight  and  quiet  enjoyment  steals  over  our 
senses ;  a  something  which  has  a  soothing  influence  upon 
our  soul.  This  lies  in  a  certain  comfort  displayed  in 
every  thing,  yet  without  any  thing  affected  or  any  thing 
prim  or  stiff;  a  certain  jusle-milieu,  bright,  cheerful,  genial, 
which  we  feel  instinctively,  but  cannot  describe,  and  which, 
I  believe,  strikes  us  in  its  refreshing  delight,  especially 
where  a  gentle,  order-loving  woman  has  set  the  impress  of 
her  own  inward  being  upon  the  outer  world  in  which  she 
moves. 

In  the  room  now  arranged  and  decorated  con  amore  by 
the  two  sisters,  and  which  had  been  hitherto  left  empty  in 
order  one  day  to  be  occupied  by  Cecilia,  this  kind  of  com- 
fort was  found.  Genial  warmth,  pure  air,  pervaded  by  a 
slight  fragrance  of  flowers ;  furniture  of  a  graceful,  simple, 
and  commodious  form  ;  a  proper  arrangement  in  every 
thing,  so  that  one  found  a  chair  in  the  very  place  where  one 
wished  to  sit  down,  where  nothing  stood  in  one's  way  when 
one  moved  about  the  floor.  Not  the  slightest  particle  of 
dust  on  the  green  carpet ;  on  the  bright  polished  tables,  not 
the  smallest  speck.  Harmony  in  all  the  colors,  every  thing 
was  pleasant,  and  the  large  looking-glass  did  not,  as  they 
sometimes  do,  reflect  a  parody  of  one's  face,  but  showed  a 
true  and  exact  copy  of  it.  Against  the  bright  window- 
panes  monthly  roses  and  mignonette  displayed  their  fresh 
verdant  leaves  and  their  flowers. 

It  happens  sometimes  that  Nature  smiles  upon  man's 
joys  as  if  she  wished  to  share  and  heighten  them,  like  a 
mother  sharing  in  the  sports  of  her  children.  Now  she 


334  SKETCHES. 

was  smiling  kindly  upon  the  sisters'  home  ;  the  air  was 
bright  and  mild ;  beautiful  clouds  sailed  in  stately  array 
over  the  clear  azure  of  the  northern  sky.  A  dazzling 
carpet  of  snow  lay  spread  over  the  landscape,  and  seemed 
to  be  studded  with  millions  of  glittering  diamonds.  A 
little  bird  sat  in  the  leafless  tree  beside  one  of  the  windows, 
singing  and  chirping  so  merrily  and  sweetly  that  one  could 
almost  be  tempted  to  believe  him  to  be  one  of  Nature's 
messengers,  sent  to  congratulate  the  reunited  sisters.  The 
sun,  which  I  shall  now  try  to  resemble  in  clearness  and 
slow  progression,  was  shining  on  the  breakfast-table,  mak- 
ing the  dazzlingly  white  damask  table-cloth  more  dazzling 
still. 

The  breakfast  cups  were  standing  upon  the  table,  and 
one  with  a  broad,  gold  edge  stood  between  the  other  two ; 
in  the  crystal  cream-jug,  in  the  shape  of  a  nautilus,  the 
rich  cream,  not  whipped,  was  frothing  from  its  own  in- 
herent richness.  Snow-white  pieces  of  sugar,  not  resem- 
bling the  atoms  shaped  in  primitive  chaos,  pointed,  triangu- 
lar, and  octangular,  such  as  we  often  see  them  in  the  sugar- 
basins  of  even  fashionable  people,  but  square  and  even ; 
rusks,  which  in  their  light  brown  color  did  honor  to  the 
flour,  the  yeast,  the  oven,  and  above  all  to  the  baker ;  and 
then  the  mysterious  coffee-urn,  which,  by  its  curling, 
aromatic  steam,  gave  notice  of  the  comfortable  beverage 
contained  within  it.  Oh  !  my  dear  female  reader !  is  not  all 
this  enough  for  "  comfort  ?  " 

And  for  happiness  ?  Look  at  the  three  reunited  sisters, 
the  long  lost  one  now  returned,  between  the  two  others,  at 
home,  in  her  own  home  (for  her  is  the  cup  with  the  gilt 
edge  intended).  Remark  in  the  two  elder  ones,  the  moist 
and  happy  glance  of  the  eye,  the  low  voice,  the  tender, 
broken  words,  the  lip  quivering  with  joy  and  delight,  the 
warmth  and  indescribable  expression  of  features  which 
cannot  find  words  and  yet  so  distinctly  says :  "  All  that  we 
possess  is  thine,  thou  our  joy  and  darling !  Thou  hast 


SKETCHES.  335 

again  been  given  to  us  —  we  shall  now  be  able  to  tend,  to 
love,  and  to  make  thee  happy  !  " 

And  in  the  third  returned  one,  mark  the  repose,  the  hope, 
the  consciousness  of  home,  of  peace,  of  sisterly  love,  this 
love  so  tender,  so  pure,  so  rich,  so  powerful  to  create  happi- 
ness. She  wants  words,  but  the  tear  that  glides  from  her 
eye  is  one  of  joy,  and  speaks  volumes.  There  is  a  rosy  hue 
on  her  cheek ;  there  is  happiness  in  her  heart ;  she  presses 
her  sisters'  hands  and  feels  that  she  can  be  happy  yet. 

And  why  should  she  not  again  be  happy  ?  The  home 
which  shall  again  hold  her,  the  port  in  which  she  has  cast 
anchor,  is  that  of  kindness  and  peace.  Kindness  led  by 
wisdom  has  a  great,  a  wondrous  power,  and  few  are  the 
pains  which  it  cannot  assuage,  few  the  afflictions  the  mem- 
ory of  which  it  cannot  gradually  efface. 

The  effect  of  its  power  seems  natural  when  one  sees  and 
marks  how  this  power  is  wielded.  Life  is  an  aggregate  of 
moments  (any  body  less  clever  than  I  am,  may  make  this 
wise  observation)  ;  kindness  seeks  to  seize  these  moments  in 
order  to  lay  down  in  each  of  them  a  seed  of  comfort  for 
the  sufferer. 

Now  it  is  called  rest,  anon  cheerfulness,  sensation  of 
comfort  for  body  and  soul  —  aye,  even  flattery  ;  kindness 
can  flatter,  but  only  the  unhappy,  one.  It  acts  like  the  sun 
in  spring ;  melts  slowly  away  winter's  snow  and  ice,  and 
sheds  warmth  everywhere;  and  then  earth  begins  to  get 
green,  and  then  come  the  flowers  —  the  wish  to  live. 

In  this  world,  so  full  of  suffering  and  of  enjoyment, 
of  splendor  and  misery,  of  greatness  and  littleness,  of 
strength  and  weakness,  of  life  and  death,  above  all  others, 
happy  is  he  in  whose  soul  lies  active  kindness,  holiness, 
and  peace.  He  alone  stands  in  this  restless  world  as  if  it 
were  a  paradise,  whose  sanctuary  no  tempests  can  reach. 
He  alone  goes  on  his  way  in  joy  and  affliction,  in  wealth 
and  in  poverty,  in  life  and  in  death,  calmly  and  unwaver- 
ingly ;  suffers  and  enjoys  alike  silently,  loves,  forgives,  does 


336  SKETCHES. 

good,  and  feels  peace.  In  order  to  work  on  uninterruptedly, 
in  order  not  to  weary  in  his  work  for  the  weal  of  fellow- 
men,  he  does  not  want  the  "  desire  of  a  name  which 
shall  survive  him  ; "  not  glory's  beautiful  vision,  which  a 
great  Roman  calls  "  the  only  passion  of  the  wise,"  and 
without  which  to  many  a  one  "  the  past  were  nothing,  the 
present  a  narrow  and  sterile  sphere  of  action,  and  the  future 
vanished."  No,  no  laurel-wreath  shall  be  laid  upon  his 
forgotten  grave  ;  no  line  in  a  funeral-oration  shall  be  dedi- 
cated to  him ;  no  patriotic  bard  shall  sing  what  he  did  for 
his  native  country.  He  will  be  forgotten,  he  knows  it,  and 
yet  he  labors  night  and  day,  and  his  lamp  is  not  extinguished 
until  with  his  life's  last  spark.  Here  a  fellow-creature  has 
been  comforted,  there  another  has  been  given  work  to 
do,  and  with  it  hope  ;  here  a  seed  has  been  sown  of  a 
future  noble  laurel,  which  will  confer  honor  upon  his  native 
country  and  upon  mankind  ;  there  again  a  spark  has  been 
kindled,  a  flame  kept  burning,  and  here  happiness  secured 
—  the  good  has  been  done  ;  that  is  enough. 

"  Doth  pure  religion  gather  here  below 
A  harvest  of  unfruitful  treasures  ?     No, 
Unpaid,  unthanked,  she  with  unceasing  toil 
Sows  seeds  of  blessedness  in  sorrow's  soil." 

Fall  freely,  O  days  of  our  life !  —  silently,  like  yellow 
leaves  from  life's  tree ;  cover  its  stem  and  branches,  ye 
wintry  snows;  oblivion!  take  his  memory.  What  to  him 
is  all  this  ?  The  good  has  been  done  —  that  is  enough. 

Yes,  it  is  enough  for  him,  but  not  for  me.  Like  a  bee  I 
would  wish  to  fly  over  the  world's  fields,  to  gather  honey 
out  of  these  beautiful,  but  hidden  and  modest  flowers,  and 
store  it  in  the  hives  of  memory,  in  order  that  men  might 
see  and  taste  how  sweet  it  is,  and  rejoice  at  it.' 

I  pause.  Friendly  reader !  when  I  invited  thee  to  enter 
into  my  balloon,  I  promised  to  carry  thee  to  "  the  home  of 
comfort  and  happiness."  I  have  fulfilled  my  promise,  and 
I  will  not  now,  like  a  honey-bee,  persuade  thee  to  a  fresh 


SKETCHES.  337 

excursion,  but  I  may  perhaps  during  my  journey  visit  thee 
(unknown  to  thee  and  unexpected)  to  imbibe  out  of  thy 
life's  flower  a  drop  of  honey,  clear  and  sweet  as  that  which 
I  got  from  the  sisters. 

THE  LIGHT-HOUSE. 

"  LOOK,  Axel,  look  how  the  bridal-lights  are  gleaming 
upon  yonder  height !  And  look  how  the  bridal  guests  are 
dancing  down  below  it !  And  now,  behold  how  the  lights 
themselves  are  dancing  about !  Look  how  they  waltz  and 
swing  round !  How  droll !  But  now,  now  they  become 
paler  —  now  they  die  away  —  now  they  are  gone !  Why 
are  the  bridal-lights  extinguished,  Axel  ?  Why  has  the 
chandelier  up  there  gone  out  ?  Ah,  see,  now  they  return ! 
There  the  bridal-lights  are  again,  so  bright,  so  joyous,  and 
they  shine  upon  the  waves  far,  far  out  at  sea,  and  upon  you 
too,  and  make  you  look  so  handsome  !  But,  Axel,  why  are 
they  gone  sometimes,  and  why  do  they  then  come  back?  " 

And  the  young  wife,  who,  herself  radiant  as  a  happy 
bride,  thus  asked,  stood  fondly  leaning  upon  her  husband, 
while  she  pointed  to  a  group  of  lights  which  were  lit,  as  it 
were,  high  up  in  the  air,  shining  against  the  dark  evening 
sky,  and  slowly  swinging  round  the  same  point,  now  hiding 
their  lustre,  and  anon  shining  forth  in  full  splendor,  throw- 
ing a  bright  gleam  over  the  rolling  billows  of  the  sea,  and 
into  the  silent  sombre  room  in  which  this  new  married 
couple  stood  at  the  window  of  their  new  home. 

"  It  is  a  light-house  with  a  revolving  light,  little  one,"  said 
her  husband,  amused  at  his  young  wife's  ignorance.  "  It 
revolves  in  this  way  in  order  to  tell  the  sea-farer,  in  the 
night,  where  he  is ;  and  the  shadowy  forms  which  you  see 
moving  about  below  the  flames,  are  the  men  who  kindle 
the  beacon.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  they  are  bonfires,  they  are  bridal-lights,"  said 
Ellina,  smiling.  "  Oh,  how  I  love  them,  the  beautiful  friendly 
lights.  How  pleasant  it  will  be  to  see  them  every  evening 

22 


338  SKETCHES. 

and  every  night.  They  remind  me  of  our  wedding-night, 
Axel.  Oh,  those  lights  !  I  cannot  forget  how  they  dazzled 
my  eyes  when  I  entered  the  room  to  be  married.  For 
some  time  I  could  not  see  any  thing.  But  soon  I  fancied 
that  every  thing,  that  the  whole  world  shone.  There  were 
so  many,  many  lights  ! " 

"  But  you  yourself  shone  brighter  than  all  the  bridal- 
lights.  I  saw  not  them,  I  saw  only  you ; "  said  the  fond 
husband,  pressing  his  young  wife  to  his  bosom. 

But  she  could  at  this  moment  see  and  speak  only  of  the 
bridal-lights  on  the  height,  and  however  Axel  tried  to  ex- 
plain the  phenomena  of  the  revolving  light,  its  fires  and  re- 
flectors, still  Ellina  would  inwardly  make  an  explanation  of 
it  of  her  own.  And  at  night,  on  her  pillow,  sleep  she 
could  not,  but  was  constantly  looking  at  the  light  as  it  re- 
volved, now  illuminating  her  room,  and  anon  leaving  it  in 
utter  darkness ;  she  would  listen  to  the  wind  as  with  deep- 
drawn  breath  it  was  sighing  round  their  dwelling;  listen  to 
the  monotonous  rushing  of  the  sea  as  the  waves  unceas- 
ingly broke  upon  the  rocks.  For  it  was  now  autumn,  and 
the  weather  was  tempestuous.  And  this  ceaseless  again 
and  again,  this  endless  heaving  without  rest,  without  aim, 
awoke  in  the  soul  of  the  young  wife  thoughts  and  presenti- 
ments almost  sad.  It  was  the  first  night  in  her  new  home. 

In  a  peaceful  home  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  valleys 
of  the  south  of  Sweden,  surrounded  by  loving  parents,  sis- 
ters, and  youthful  companions,  she  had  dreamt  a  quiet 
dream  of  childhood.  There  was  in  the  neighborhood  a 
large  town  with  a  university,  and  from  it  came  voices  and 
visions  of  fountains  of  wisdom,  of  the  fine  arts,  and  of  in- 
tellectual ornaments  of  life.  Much  that  was  beautiful 
Ellina  beheld  around  her  in  Nature  and  in  her  home  ;  but 
she  knew  that  beyond  this  her  quiet  world,  there  existed 
one  still  more  beautiful  and  splendid,  which  she  would  see 
when  she  had  grown  to  be  a  woman.  And  thus  the  child 
grew  up  in  joyous  presentiment  of  life,  thinking  constantly, 


SKETCHES.  339 

"  When  I  am  older,  then  I  shall  see,  then  I  shall  learn  much 
more;  then  will  come  something  still  better,  something 
more  beautiful  still."  But  what  this  was  to  be,  she  did  not 
clearly  understand.  And  what  young  girl  has  a  name  for 
her  beautiful  visions  ?  But  it  was  to  be  something  in  feel- 
ing, something  in  thought,  which  made  her  life  seem  to 
stand  forth  in  Tadiant  glory ;  which  let  her  step  forth 
out  of  darkness  into  the  light  of  life  and  joy ;  which 
answered  all  her  young  soul's  silent  but  earnest  questions 
and  aspirations ;  something  of  that  kind  it  would  be,  some- 
thing of  that  kind  would  come.  Thus  thought  Ellina,  and 
thus  almost  all  happy  young  girls  think.  And  then  came 
a  young  man  and  offered  the  lovely  young  girl  his  hand. 
Her  parents  said  "  Yes,"  for  Axel  Ern  was  an  excellent 
young  man ;  Ellina  did  not  say  him  "  Nay ; "  for  bride- 
groom, bridal- wreath,  wedding,  it  was  that  which  was  to 
come  first,  which  was  to  be  the  commencement  of  the  bril- 
liant vision.  Her  parents  would  be  so  happy  ;  Axel  would 
be  so  happy,  and  how  then  would  not  she  also  be  happy  ! 
To  be  sure,  she  was  still  rather  young,  and  was  reluctant 
to  leave  her  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters,  but  they  all 
said  that  it  was  to  be,  that  she  would  make  them  all  happy, 
and  she  said  "  Yes  ; "  became  affianced,  courted,  teased,  and 
adorned.  And  then  came  the  wedding ;  and  that  evening 
when  Ellina  saw  "  so  many,  many  lights,"  when  she  thought 
that  a  life  of  light  was  to  begin  for  her.  And  so  she  accom- 
panied her  husband  to  the  place  where  he  had  built  his  nest. 
It  was  situated  amongst  rocks,  surrounded  by  the  sea,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  one  of  the  fortresses  on  the  western 

O 

coast  of  Sweden.  I  shall  not  say  whether  it  was  the  for- 
tress of  Elfsborg,  or  Carlsten,  or  Bohus.  But  the  place 
was  far  distant  from  Ellina's  childhood's  home,  and  very 
different  from  its  beautiful  valleys.  TJiere  were  leafy  for- 
ests and  nightingales ;  here,  only  islands,  and  barren,  gray 
rocks,  and  round  them  the  surging,  dangerous  Cattegat 
Such  is  in  general  the  rocky  coast  of  Bohuslan.  Many  find 


340  SKETCHES. 

Nature  there  ugly,  terrible,  repulsive.  I  love  her.  To  me 
she  has  in  her  something  more  attractive,  more  pleasing, 
than  landscapes  of  soft  verdure,  cultivation,  and  fertility, 
which  one  can,  as  it  were,  look  quite  through.  Reader, 
canst  thou  love  a  nature  without  mystery  ?  I  cannot 
do  it,  and  I  feel  sure  that  thou  canst  not  either  do  it,  in 
case  it  were  question  of  a  human  nature,  of  a  human  soul. 
But  beware  of  saying  (I  am  now  speaking  to  myself),  this 
nature  has  no  mystery  !  Is  there,  I  ask,  generally  speak- 
ing, any  human  soul  devoid  of  an  unknown  depth  ?  Say 
then  :  This  soul  has  not  yet  had  its  Whitsun  festival ;  no 
tongue  of  fire  has  breathed  upon  it  with  reviving  breath, 
and  one  knows  not  what  is  in  it. 

But  to  return  to  the  islands  on  the  rock-bound  coast  of 
Bohuslan,  and  their  mystery.  They  possess  such  a  mys- 
tery :  they  resemble  those  human  natures,  whose  surface 
is  hard  and  harsh,  but  hide  within  fertile  and  beautiful  val- 
leys. Approach  nearer  to  these  granite  islands,  these  naked 
rocks,  and  you  will  not  find  one  amongst  them  which  has 
not  grassy  spots  and  beautiful  flowery  paths.  These  gray 
rocks  drink  in  the  sun's  rays,  and  long  retain  their  fire  in 
their  granite  bosom.  They  communicate  it  to  the  soil 
round  their  foot,  and  in  their  bosom  and  out  of  it  blooms 
forth  life  in  its  fullness.  Out  of  every  crevice  honeysuckle 
and  blackberry  bushes  spring  forth  in  wild  profusion,  en- 
circling with  their  flowery  arms  the  mossy  boulders,  and 
transforming  them  into  beautiful  monuments  upon  the 
graves  of  the  ancient  Vikings.  Bouquets  of  golden  "  Iris  " 
and  of  wild  roses  are  blooming  amongst  the  granite  rocks, 
and  high  up  on  their  rugged  tops,  where  only  the  goat  and 
the  sea-mew  can  find  a  footing,  tiny  white  and  yellow  flow- 
ers are  nodding  in  the  breeze,  whilst  the  wild  breakers  of 
the  Cattegat  are  foaming  round  their  base.  Even  upon  the 
smallest  of  these  rocky  islets  the  sheep  find  nourishment 
and  fatten,  and  upon  the  larger  islands  one  finds  hidden 
from  the  eyes  of  the  world  a  small  blooming  paradise,  full 


SKETCHES.  341 

of  roses,  lilies,  and  fruit,  where  some  son  of  Adam  is  living 
with  his  Eve,  peacefully  and  —  happy.  We  would  gladly 
believe  the  latter  if  there  were  not  some  peculiar  circum- 
stances attached  to  these  secluded  paradises.  Things  did 
not  turn  out  quite  well  in  the  first  one  —  we  know  that  — 
and  they  do  not  turn  out  much  better  in  the  later  ones, 
provided  man  remains  there  long.  Life  in  solitary  islands 
is  rarely  beneficial.  The  sameness  in  the  surrounding 
objects,  the  want  of  diversion,  of  amusement,  of  something 
new,  of  intercourse  with  the  great,  changing  world,  cramps 
the  soul,  and  feelings  and  thoughts  become  one-sided  on 
certain  points  and  there  stick  fast,  as  it  were.  We  see  this 
in  Iceland  ;  we  see  how  in  Corsica,  under  the  ceaseless  and 
repeated  pressure  of  many  years,  and  the  beating  of  the 
same  bitter  billows  upon  the  heart,  secret  animosity  grew 
into  hatred,  hatred  into  revenge  and  sanguinary  retribu- 
tion. We  see  it  even  to  this  day  in  the  Farroe  Islands,  in 
the  silent,  half-witted  forms  wandering  about  amongst  the 
mist-enveloped  hills,  and  who  have  become  such,  because 
when  misfortunes  and  adversity  came,  they  had  no  place 
to  go  to,  nowhere  to  seek  a  refuge  from  these  gloomy  im- 
pressions, these  frowning  rocks,  and  heavy,  misty  atmos- 
phere. The  mails  from  the  outer  world  are  sometimes 
from  seven  to  eight  months  in  reaching  them. 

But  loving  solitude,  as  I  do,  and  the  undisturbed  com- 
munion of  the  soul  with  itself,  I  cannot  pursue  the  argu- 
ment, to  which  these  examples  lead,  any  further  than  by 
saying,  that  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone  for  any 
length  of  time. 

And  so  let  us  return  to  one  young  couple  — Axel  and 
Ellina.  It  was  as  if  an  eagle  had  carried  a  pigeon  to  his 
eyrie.  The  strange  and  solemn  surrounding  scenery,  the 
solitude,  the  roar  and  turmoil  of  the  breakers,  the  autumn 
gales —  all  this  filled  Ellina's  bosom  with  fear  and  name- 
less anxiety.  But  she  had  her  own  home  —  and  there  is 
no  woman  who  does  not  feel  this  as  a  blessing  —  she  had 


342  SKETCHES. 

her  household  duties  to  attend  to  in  this  home.  And  then 
there  was  the  light-house,  the  revolving  bridal-lights  on  high* 
which  reminded  her  every  dark  night  of  the  most  beautiful 
evening  in  her  life,  her  wedding,  when  she  saw  "  so  many 
lights,  oh,  so  many  lights."  And  there  was  first  and  last, 
and  above  all,  her  husband,  and  this  husband  was  a  noble- 
hearted  man,  and  still  more  he  was  an  excellent  husband. 

It  is  perhaps  as  well  that  I  avail  myself  of  this  opportu- 
nity to  make  a  confession,  which  has  frequently  hovered 
over  my  lips,  but  which  I  have  hitherto  hesitated  to  give  to 
the  world,  out  of  fear  that  I  thereby  should  incur  the 
hatred  of  all  married  ladies.  I  dread  this  even  now,  but 
—  never  mind,  I  must  unburden  my  heart.  I  confess, 
therefore,  that  I  have  never  found,  that  I  never  find  a  man 
more  amiable  than  when  he  is  —  a  married  man,  that  is  to 
say,  a  good  married  man.  In  my  eyes  a  man  is  never 
more  noble,  more  perfect,  than  when  he  is  a  married  man, 
a  tender  husband,  a  father  of  a  family,  supporting  with 
vigor  and  with  manly  kindness  his  wife  and  the  domestic 
circle,  which,  by  his  entering  into  the  wedded  state,  has 
closed  round  him  as  a  part  of  his  home,  of  his  world.  He 
becomes  thereby  not  only  more  worthy  of  love,  but  in 
reality  also  more  dignified.  Therefore  the  excellence  of  a 
man  consists  in  his  being  a  good  married  man,  and  only 
with  such  a  one  am  I  tempted  to  fall  in  love.  But  this 
being  strictly  forbidden,  and  Moses,  as  well  as  all  other 
legislators,  having  pronounced  it  to  be  a  sin,  all  married 
ladies  will  consider  it  a  sacred  duty  to  stone  me. 

Nevertheless,  I  cannot  help'  this.  My  only  hope  of  rec- 
onciling the  offended  parties  lies  in  proceeding  in  my  con- 
fession :  that  no  happiness  makes  me  more  happy  to  be- 
hold, no  love  touches  me  more  deeply,  than  the  mutual 
love  of  husband  and  wife.  I  am  myself  astonished  at 
this  ;  for  it  seems  to  me  that  being  myself  not  married,  I 
have  very  little  to  do  with  that  happiness.  However,  so  it 
is,  and  so  it  has  always  been.  I  was  yet  a  child,  when  one  , 


SKETCHES.  343 

day  I  saw  my  father  enter  my  mother's  room,  laying  down 
before  her  a  present,  which  gave  her  great  pleasure.  She 
took  hold  of  his  hand  and  kissed  it,  and  words  and  looks 
of  love  passed  between  them.  Never  shall  I  forget  the 
sensation  of  happiness  which  filled  my  soul,  where  I  stood 
alone  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  playing  with  my  doll.  It  was 
as  if  heaven  had  lighted  upon  my  heart.  I  stood  silent, 
overwhelmed  with  the  power  of  this  sensation,  when  the 
eyes  of  my  parents  discovered  me.  "  You  blush  so  pret- 
tily, little  one  ! "  said  my  mother,  tenderly,  and  my  father 
came  and  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  my  head.  Never  shall 
I  forget  this. 

Something  of  this  first  sensation  I  experience  still,  when 
I  witness  the  happiness  of  husband  and  wife  some  distance 
beyond  the  honey-moon. 

Ellina  was  very  young  when,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
new  home,  she  beheld  the  "bridal-lights  on  the  height." 
Many  years  had  rolled  past  since,  and  Ellina  was  now  no 
longer  young.  She  was  now  the  mother  of  seven  boys. 
Serious  illness,  many  cares,  much  work  of  all  kinds,  and 
narrow  circumstances,  had  wrought  a  great  change  in  her 
—  inwardly  as  well  as  outwardly.  But  she  was  still  a 
pleasing  woman,  though  the  bloom  of  her  youth  was  gone ; 
and  her  soul  —  that  soul  which  had  foreboded  so  much  that 
is  great  and  beautiful  in  life,  which  believed  that  it  would 
progress  from  one  light  to  another,  until  the  whole  world 
and  her  own  heart,  her  own  life,  should  stand  glorified  in 
radiant  light  —  had  said  farewell  to  all  its  hopes,  one  by 
one,  had  said  farewell  to  all  its  dawning  thoughts,  until  it 
had  spun  itself  round  by  innumerable  threads  into  the  web 
of  her  domestic  duties  and  cares,  which  were  renewed 
every  day,  like  the  beating  of  the  waves  upon  the  rocks, 
like  the  revolving  shadows  of  the  light-house,  like  the  deep- 
drawn  sighs  of  the  autumn  wind.  And  Ellina  faithfully 
spun  her  thread,  faithfully  fulfilled  her  duties.  But  happy 


844  SKETCHES. 

she  was  not,  for  the  road  of  duty,  although  it  certainly 
leads  to  happiness,  as  the  working-clays  of  the  week  lead  to 
the  Sabbath,  is  yet  not  happiness  itself.  Ellina  was  no 
longer  merry,  as  formerly ;  she  felt  that  something  living 
and  beautiful,  which  in  days  gone  past  was  within  her,  was 
gradually  becoming  buried  under  the  weight  of  years  and 
petty  cares.  She  found  herself  changing  sadly.  She  had 
imagined  life  in  general,  and  her  own  life  in  particular, 
as  something  quite  different.  Sometimes  she  felt  an  inde- 
scribable longing  to  weep  over  herself. 

It  is  thus  with  a  great  many  women.  They  feel  them- 
selves born  to  conceive  life  and  things  in  beautiful  har- 
mony. They  believe  themselves  progressing  in  knowledge, 
in  love,  in  enjoyment  of  all  that  is  good  and  beautiful,  as 
in  an  elevating  metamorphosis.  But  life's  current  comes 
and  bears  them  away  to  barren  and  desolate  regions. 
They  are  spun  round  by  earthly  anxieties  ;  are  surrounded 
by  the  trammels  of  petty  cares,  of  trifles,  of  mean  interests, 
and  upon  these  at  last  they  themselves  spin.  Then  life 
loses  by  degrees  its  beauty,  the  mind  its  rosy  tint,  the  soul 
becomes  oppressed,  their  temper  soured,  and  their  horizon 
becomes  narrower  and  more  dim.  In  some  silent  hour 
perchance  they  look  round  now  and  then  ;  look  into  their 
own  soul  with  melancholy  surprise,  and  exclaim  :  "  "Was 
this  to  be  the  end  of  it  ?  Is  life  nothing  else  ?  Was  it 
for  nothing  else  that  I  was  born  ?  "  And  they  recall  the 
illusions,  the  hopes  of  their  youth.  "  Dreams !  "  they  say, 
and  they  suppress  a  sigh,  wipe  away  a  tear,  and  weave 
again  the  daily  web,  until  they  have  woven  their  shroud, 
and  their  earthly  days  are  closed. 

But  such  is  the  fate  not  only  of  many  women,  no,  it  is 
the  fate  also  of  a  great  many  men,  with  warm,  rich  souls. 
At  the  yard-measure,  at  the  needle,  at  the  weighing-scales, 
at  the  writing  desk,  under  the  withering  influence  of  dead 
figures  from  morning  to  night,  they  feel  themselves  gradu- 
ally becoming  blunted  and  like  a  stock ;  they  feel  the  poesy, 


SKETCHES.  345 

the  sensitive,  loving,  creative  spirit  within  them,  buried  even 
before  it  has  had  time  to  live.  Also  they  sometimes  look 
up  sadly,  asking :  "  Why  do  I  live  ?  Is  life  nothing  else  ?  " 

These  all  are  souls  awaiting  their  Whitsuntide.  Ex- 
pectant souls  !  could  I  but  let  you  feel  and  believe,  as  firmly 
as  I  do  it  myself,  that  it  is  coming,  and  the  glory  of  its 
reality  shall  exceed  your  most  beautiful  dreams. 

Some  of  my  fair  readers  have  probably  already  guessed, 
from  the  change  which  I  have  mentioned  as  having  taken 

o  o 

place  in  Ellina,  that  her  husband  and  the  first  conjugal  hap- 
piness also  had  changed.  It  was  so.  What  husband  and 
what  marriage  remains  the  same  during  a  period  of  nine- 
teen or  twenty  years  ?  Ellina's  husband  was  a  noble  and 
good  man,  as  I  have  said,  and  I  repeat  it.  But  still  he  was 
too  one-sided  manly,  as  Ellina  was  too  one-sided  womanly. 
His  was  a  nature  energetic,  practical,  looking  at  the  outer 
world  ;  hers  poetical,  sensitive,  living  in  the  world  within 
her.  In  several  points  husband  and  wife  never  harmonized. 
They  harmonized  less  and  less,  when,  during  succeeding 
years  and  with  an  increasing  family,  the  support  of  the 
same  necessarily  claimed  a  greater  exertion  of  his  industry, 
and  when  his  time  and  his  mind  became  more  and  more 
taken  up  by  outward,  practical  life.  She  felt  herself  more 
and  more  lonely,  and  too  proud  and  too  wise  to  complain 
of  the  unsatisfied  wants  of  her  soul  and  heart,  she  shut 
herself  up  more  within  herself.  She  became  still  more  like 
the  steep,  rugged  rock ;  she  resembled  the  solitary  lily 
near  it.  Besides,  there  was  between  them  another  subject 
of  dispute  and  discontent,  which,  though  frequently  dropped, 
was  still  as  often  renewed.  And  thus  they  became  gradu- 
ally estranged  without  clearly  knowing  how ;  between  them 
rose  a  something,  a  darkening  cloud,  an  invisible  wall,  — 
something  nameless,  they  knew  not  what,  which  made  them 
more  and  more  strangers  to  each  other. 

Husbands  and  wives !  ye  who  have  wandered  together 
through  life  some  distance  beyond  the  "  halcyon-days,"  tell 


346  SKETCHES. 

me,  is  it  not  an  every-day  story,  this  one  which  I  have 
sketched  here ;  is  it  not  the  history  of  nine  married  couples 
out  of  ten  ?  Where  the  mutual  relation  proceeds  in  this 
downward  direction,  married  life  is  transformed  into  that 
Dead  Sea  on  whose  shore  no  flower  is  thriving,  no  bird  is 
singing ;  over  whose  surface  pestilential  vapors  are  hang- 
ing, and  in  whose  depths  one  can  occasionally  descry  the 
ruins  of  a  once  beautiful,  but  accursed  city.  Married  life 
is  as  little  stationary  on  earth  as  any  other  life.  Within 
it  a  slow  but  continual  change  upwards  or  downwards 
takes  place,  according  to  the  will  or  the  fault  of  the  hus- 
band or  the  wife.  The  causes  may  be  different  in  all  mar- 
riages, but  in  all  there  are  moments,  crises,  from  which  we 
can  guess  how  time  advances,  what  "  the  clock  strikes." 
And  in  them  all  arises  a  temptation,  when  the  first  flame 
has  burnt  down,  to  let  the  deeper  union  dissolve,  let  the 
spirit  fly.  And  it  will  do  so. 

"  Should  not  the  heavenly  Amor  then 
Hold  fast  his  Psyche  with  new  bridal  kiss," 

and  consecrate  her  to  a  higher,  truer  union  ? 

There  will  not  be  wanting  Nicodemus'-heads  in  the  world, 
who  will  ask  doubtingly,  "  How  can  these  things  be  ?  " 

We  have  little  else  to  reply  hereto  than  this :  That  we 
know  that  they  are  ;  but  we  know  no  other  fundamental 
cause  for  it  than  the  one  upon  which  every  good  result  de- 
pends, the  driving-wheel  in  life's  steam-engine,  the  axis  of 
life's  revolving-light,  the  earnest,  hearty  will  of  the  parties 
concerned.  But  to  continue  my  story.  I  wish  (I  whisper  this 
to  myself)  that  I  could  avoid  lengthening  it  by  reflections, 
which  the  reader  can  make  himself  without  my  assistance. 

The  first  subject  of  discord  which  arose  between  Axel 
and  Ellina,  and  which  we  have  alluded  to,  was  the  education 
of  the  boys.  The  father  averred  that  the  mother  petted, 
indulged,  in  a  word,  spoilt  them.  Very  possibly  he  was 
right.  However,  I  believe  that  she  did  it  in  the  right  way. 
The  boys  were  obedient  and  adored  their  mother.  No 


SKETCHES.  347 

really  spoilt  children  do  this.  But  the  father  was  too  se- 
vere, where  he  found  the  mother  too  weak.  He  was  very 
anxious  to  send  the  boys  out  of  the  house  into  a  good 
school,  that  they  might  "  learn  something,"  and  that  they 
might  "  be  made  men  of."  Six  eaglets  had  already  left  the 
eyrie  and  winged  their  flight  to  distant  parts.  The  moth- 
er's heart  had  said  "  Nay  "  to  each  flight,  but  her  reason 
had  said  "  Aye,"  and  so  it  was  done  as  the  father  wished 
it.  The  youngest  boy  alone  remained  now.  "He  also," 
said  the  father,  "  must  go  away,  must  out  in  the  world." 
•But  now  the  mother  said  "  No,  he  was  still  too  young,  too 
tender,  too  weak."  — "  Just  therefore,"  the  father  argued, 
"he  must  go  away  from  home,  out  amongst  other  boys, 
to  lead  a  more  vigorous,  a  fresher  life ;  the  boy  was  al- 
ready nearly  ten  years  old."  The  father's  will  triumphed 
over  the  mother's ;  but  when  he  tore  her  youngest  one  out 
of  her  arms,  he  broke  the  thread  which  tied  her  heart  to 
her  husband.  So  Ellina  felt,  for  she  fancied  that  he  had 
used  her  harshly.  When  she  thus  found  herself  alone,  she 
found  herself  doubly  alone.  She  had  not  any  longer  a 
little  curly  head  to  fondle  when  she  went  to  bed  at  night ; 
no  warm,  tiny  breath  near  her  pillow  rocked  her  heart  to 
rest  and  sleep ;  no  little  arms  full  of  trust  encircled  her 
neck  night  and  morning ;  no  childish  prattle  in  the  day 
made  her  forget  what  her  soul  had  lost.  Gone  was  every 
thing,  and  the  worst  of  it  was,  that  also  Axel  was  away,  not 
only  from  home,  but  also  —  from  her  heart.  She  felt  it  so 
empty  that  it  almost  frightened  her.  Yes,  it  is  probable 
that  she  would  have  borne  the  absence  of  her  boys  and  her 
loneliness  very  differently,  if  she  only  could  have  held  fast 
in  her  heart  her  husband's  image,  as  bright  as  it  was  in 
days  gone  by. 

Again  it  was  autumn,  and  all  the  domestic  duties  for  the 
autumn  had  to  be  attended  to,  all  those  duties  which  Ellina 
had  never  loved,  and  which  now  appeared  to  her  more  irk- 
some than  ever.  Bullocks  and  sheep  were  to  be  killed  for 


348  SKETCHES. 

the  winter,  meat  to  be  salted  down,  bread  to  be  baked, 
sausages  and  black-puddings  to  be  made,  candles  to  be 
moulded,  etc.,  etc.  The  autumnal  gales  came  on,  the  bil- 
lows roared  and  thundered  against  the  rocks,  the  wind 
howled  round  their  dwelling,  and  the  lights  in  the  light- 
house revolved  with  the  same  lights  and  the  same  shadows. 
This  eternal  sameness  had  an  almost  suffocating  effect 
upon  Ellina's  desponding  mind. 

Axel  stayed  away  a  long  time,  —  much  longer  than  was 
required  for  placing  the  little  boy.  When  he  returned,  he 
brought  with  him  three  strange  gentlemen  as  guests.  Ellina 
did  not  belong  to  the  impossible  women  (read :  impossible 
women)  who  make  impossibilities  and  grim  faces,  when 
occasionally  their  husbands  come  home  to  dinner  or  sup- 
per, bringing  with  them  an  unexpected  guest.  But  three 
at  once,  and  at  this  moment  too,  when  her  heart  was  sore 
and  heavy  and  the  larder  empty  —  that  was  too  much ! 
When  Axel  folded  her  warmly  and  affectionately  in  his 
arms,  she  stood  in  this  embrace  cold  and  pale  as  the  lily 
in  the  mountain-cleft,  and  gave  him  no  pressure  of  the 
hand,  no  kiss  in  return.  He  turned  therefore  to  his  merry 
guests,  occupying  himself  with  them.  Ellina  went  out  to 
arrange  about  the  supper  and  to  prepare  what  else  the  new- 
comers might  require.  Perchance  husband  and  wife  felt 
dimly  that  it  would  not  be  good  for  them  to  be  now  left 
alone  together. 

When  the  goblet  is  full,  it  wants  only  one  drop  more  to 
make  it  overflow.  This  drop  came  now  to  Ellina  in  the 
shape  of  her  help  in  house  and  kitchen,  —  Miss  Unready, 
the  gentlest,  most  faithful,  and  also  one  of  the  most  efficient 

O  7 

persons  in  the  world,  but  who  had  a  great  inclination  to 
look  at  every  thing  from  a  tragic  point  of  view,  and  who  in 
all  emergencies  always  began  by  saying  that  "she  knew  of 
no  living  means,"  on  account  of  which  Ellina  used  to  call 
her  in  earnest  and  in  jest,  "  my  Miss  Unready."  But  as 
Ellina  herself  always  found  out  some  ways  and  means,  and 


SKETCHES.  349 

Miss  Unready  really  excelled  in  doing  all  that  her  mistress 
desired  her  to  do,  they  managed  beautifully  together  ;  al- 
though Ellina's  patience  was  put  to  the  proof  now  and  then, 
when  she  spoke  about  the  dinner,  and  "  Miss  Unready " 
stood  before  her,  straight  as  a  post,  rubbing  her  long  thin 
arms,  "  knowing  of  no  living  means,"  and  having  nothing 
to  suggest  except  —  spinach.  If  the  moon  and  all  her 
supposed  unknown  inhabitants  had  tumbled  down  upon 
earth  and  into  Miss  Unready's  kitchen,  she  would  have 
looked  scarcely  more  irresolute,  terrified,  and  bewildered 
than  now,  when  the  master  of  the  house  came  home  unex- 
pectedly with  three  guests ;  and  of  all  evenings  in  the  world 
just  on  that  evening,  when  preparations  were  to  be  made 
for  baking  bread  for  the  winter,  and  when  the  larder  had 

O  * 

not  yet  been  stocked  with  its  winter  provisions. 

At  the  sight  of  her  Ellina  could  scarcely  suppress  her 
vexation,  and  she  said  to  her  in  a  half  angry  tone  :  "  It  is 
no  use,  Unready,  looking  like  misery  itself,  but  advise  me 
now  what  you  think  we  can  have  for  supper." 

Miss  Unready  rubbed  her  right  arm,  that  hung  straight 
down,  with  her  left  hand  up  and  down,  and  down  and  up, 
but  "  knew  of  no  living  means." 

Ellina :  "  Have  we  got  nothing  in  the  larder ;  cannot  you 
invent  something,  which  can  be  ready  in  a  short  time?" 

Unready  rubbed  her  left  arm  with  her  right  hand  up  and 
down,  and  stammered  :  "  Yes,  spinach  !  " 

Ellina,  impatiently :  "  Spinach  !  —  but  how  can  you, 
Unready,  think  that  four  gentlemen  can  be  satisfied  with 
spinach  ?  " 

And  it  ended  as  usual :  Ellina  herself  had  to  find  ways 
and  means,  and  to  be  this  night  both  head  and  hand  in  the 
kitchen,  because  Miss  Unready  had  completely  lost  her 
head,  and,  besides,  every  cranny,  bin,  and  shelf  in  the 
larder  was  unusually  empty. 

Ellina  succeeded  only  with  great  difficulty  in  providing 
what  was  necessary  for  the  moment ;  but  when  supper  was 


350  SKETCHES. 

finished,  and  she  saw  the  four  gentlemen  seated  at  the  whist- 
table  with  their  cigars  and  punch,  she  drew  a  long  breath, 
bade  the  whist-players  and  smokers  a  good  night,  and  re- 
tired to  her  room.  She  felt  weary  both  in  body  and  soul. 

Her  soul  was  wearied,  yes,  but  yet  like  an  agitated  sea. 
Within  it  moved  a  something  which  Ellina  had  never  before 
experienced.  It  was  something  like  discontent  and  bitter- 
ness against  her  husband  —  voices  rose  out  of  these  agi- 
tated waves,  whispering :  "  Has  it  come  to  this  ?  Am  I 
to  him  nothing  but  a  housekeeper,  a  servant,  destined  to 
attend  to  his  whims,  his  pleasures,  his  comforts?  My  feel- 
ings, my  pain,  my  heart's  life  —  do  not  they  deserve  some 
consideration,  some  forbearance  ?  Am  I  really  so  fallen  ? 
And  he  —  he  who  "  — 

"  Be  silent !  "  Ellina  interrupted  resolutely  the  resent- 
ful voices,  pressing  her  hands  hard  upon  her  beating  heart, 
as  if  she  would  have  stifled  its  throbs ;  "  be  silent !  not 
a  word  against  him  ;  whatever  he  may  be,  whatever  I 
may  become  to  him,  I  shall  always  know  how  to  fulfill  my 
duties  faithfully.  He  shall  not  see  the  agony  of  my  soul, 
the  cloud  in  my  heart.  He  shall  miss  nothing  ;  he  shall 
never  find  cause  of  complaint !" 

With  this  determination  Ellina  tried  to  calm  her  feelings. 
She  covered  up  the  windows  closely,  so  that  "  the  bridal- 
lights  on  the  height "  might  not  shine  into  her  room.  She 
would  not  see  them  now.  Chilled,  indifferent,  and  sad  in 
her  mind,  she  laid  herself  down  upon  her  sofa,  shut  her  eyes, 
trying  to  feel  nothing,  think  nothing  —  to  sleep.  In  vain. 
The  misery  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  was  too  great.  Again 
and  again  returned  the  galling  wave ;  again  and  again  was 
heard  the  complaining,  resentful  voice,  and  heavy  tears 
gathered  under  her  burning  eyelids.  Every  moment  she 
felt  more  uneasy,  more  unhappy  —  she  could  not  rest,  she 
could  not  even  pray. 

When  she  again  opened  her  sleepless  eyes,  she  found  her 
room  light,  —  not  from  daylight,  because  it  was  now  near 


SKETCHES.  351 

midnight ;  not  from  the  unsteady  gleam  of  the  revolving . 
light,  but  from  a  mild,  steady,  though  faint  glimmer.  Ellina 
rose,  went  to  the  window,  and  drew  up  the  blind.  She  saw 
then  that  the  clouds,  which  for  many  days  had  hung  like 
a  heavy  canopy  over  the  sky,  had  been  dispersed,  and  had 
given  way  to  the  moon,  which  now  in  her  first  quarter, 
stood  with  her  pointed  horns  turned  upwards,  bright  and 
beautiful  over  the  distant  hill-tops.  The  gale  had  subsided. 
Ellina  opened  the  window.  Warm,  and  refreshing  at  the 
same  time,  the  wind  fanned  her  burning  temples.  The 
moon's  rays  fell  so  peacefully  upon  rocks  and  waves,  on 
the  greensward  along  the  shore,  and  on  the  dew-drops 
hanging  on  the  leaves  of  the  trees.  It  was  as  if  they  had 
whispered  to  her :  "  Come  out !  come  out !  " 

Ellina  threw  round  her  a  large  shawl,  tied  a  veil  over 
her  head  and  stepped  out.  As  she  passed  her  husband's 
door  she  stopped  involuntarily.  She  heard  that  he  was  still 
up,  and  she  thought :  "  If  I  were  to  go  in  and  lean  my  head 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  —  I  did  not  receive  him  in  a  loving 
manner  to-day.  Perhaps  this  has  given  him  pain.  If  I 
were  "  —  "  No,"  said  another  voice  within  her  ;  "  he  cares 
little  for  me  and  he  does  not  deserve  it."  And  she  passed 
on  silently  and  quickly.  How  many  good  feelings,  how 
many  a  moment  of  reconciliation  does  not  thus  pass  by  dis- 
regarded, and  time  passes  also,  and  then  it  is  too  late. 

Ellina  stood  upon  the  terrace  near  the  shore,  outside 
their  house.  It  was  a  beautiful  September  night,  such  as 
we  see  so  frequently  on  the  west  coast  of  Sweden.  A  re- 
pose had  come  over  Nature  after  the  last  days  of  stormy 
weather.  The  leaves  dropped  down  yellow  from  the  trees, 
and  the  flowers  upon  their  stalks  drooped  their  withered 
heads ;  but  in  the  glittering  drops  which  trembled  in 
them,  glimmered  the  moon's  silvery  beams,  and  they  stirred 
gently  under  the  caresses  of  the  balmy  breeze.  It  was  as 
if  some  power  of  love  was  here  busy  to  reconcile,  to  beau- 
tify. Even  the  billows  of  the  Cattegat  seemed  charmed ; 


352  SKETCHES. 

they  rose  and  fell  slowly,  as  if  lovingly  murmuring,  and  laid 
themselves  to  rest  upon  the  granite  bosom,  which  so  often 
had  chafed  and  broken  their  surge. 

Ellina  contemplated  the  fallen  leaves,  the  withered  flow- 
ers, the  soft  moonbeams,  the  charmed  billows,  and  a  feel- 
ing of  indescribable  pain,  at  this  moment  nearly  approach- 
ing to  despair,  overpowered  her.  She,  who  was  ordinarily 
so  calm,  now  wrung  her  hands,  raised  them  on  high,  and 
exclaimed,  while  long  suppressed,  bitter  tears,  chased  each 
other  down  her  cheeks  :  — 

"  Oh,  that  I  were  a  seared  leaf,  a  withered  flower  !  Oh, 
that  I  might  fall  like  them !  that  I  might  die  before  my 
heart  dies,  before  I  become  wretched  and  embittered ! 
Father  in  heaven  !  take  me  to  your  mansions,  for  I  have 
done  with  earth.  Gone  away  are  my  children,  and  my 
husband  loves  me  no  longer.  Youth,  health,  joy,  love  of 
life,  love,  and  faith  —  all  are  gone,  gone  forever  ! " 

But  before  her  outstretched  arms  had  again  sunk  down, 
other  arms  seized  her,  and  a  voice  whispered  in  her  ear : 
"  What  is  gone,  gone  forever  ?  " 

It  was  Axel's  voice,  but  Ellina  was  too  agitated  to  be 
able  to  make  any  answer.  She  turned  her  face  away  from 
him  and  wept,  only  wept,  while  he  still  was  holding  her  in 
his  arms.  When  she  seemed  to  be  a  little  more  composed, 
he  said  :  "  Come,  go  with  me  to  our  resting-place  on  '  chat- 
island.'  The  night  is  fine,  and  I  have  something  to  say  to 
you." 

Ellina  followed  him  down  some  steps  into  the  little 
green-painted  gondola,  the  boys'  boat,  the  "  North  Star," 
which  now,  impelled  by  Axel's  powerful  stroke  of  the  oars, 
flew  swiftly  across  the  calm  waters. 

They  sat  both  silent  —  Ellina  with  downcast,  tearful 
eyes ;  she  felt  that  Axel's  glance  was  resting  upon  her,  and 
her  heart  beat  in  uneasy  expectation.  It  was  not  long  be- 
fore they  arrived  at  a  small  rocky  islet,  higher  than  the 
others  with  which  the  coast  was  dotted.  A  high  granite 


SKETCHES.  353 

wall  constituted  its  protection  against  the  north  and  east, 
gathering  on  the  south  the  rays  of  the  sun  as  in  a  focus. 
Nature  herself  had  cut  out  a  "  causeuse "  in  the  rock,  a 
small  seat  for  two  persons,  which  Axel  had  made  more 
comfortable,  and  round  which  he  had  trailed  the  luxuriant 
ivy  and  honeysuckle.  This  he  had  done  during  the  earlier 
period  of  his  love,  and  he  had  frequently  brought  his  young 
wife  thither.  Many  a  dark  evening,  when  the  sea  was 
glittering  with  phosphoric  light,  and  the  wind  was  softly 
whispering,  had  they  sat  there  exchanging  words  of  love 
and  looking  with  hopeful,  bright  eyes  at  future,  coming 
days,  while  the  light-house  on  the  fortress  threw  its  dazzling 
light  upon  the  rising  and  falling  billows. 

A  very  long  time  had  elapsed  since  they  last  had  been 
there  —  many  years. 

The  honeysuckle  and  ivy  tendrils  grew  as  luxuriantly  as 
ever,  but  they  were  hanging  round  in  wild  confusion  for 
want  of  a  tending  hand. 

Husband  and  wife  sat  again  side  by  side,  with  the  wide 
sea  around  them,  over  which  a  gentle  breeze  came  sweeping 
to  them  which  seemed  to  whisper  :  Speak !  speak  ! 

And  Axel  spoke,  saying,  while  he  drew  Ellina  closer  to 
him :  "  Ellina,  what  is  it  that  is  gone,  gone  forever  ?  " 

Oh,  that  voice  !  It  sounded  as  in  former  happy  days. 
Twenty  years  gone  by,  rolled  in  a  moment  past  Ellina's 
soul.  She  leant  her  forehead  upon  Axel's  shoulder,  say- 
ing only,  "  Axel,  do  not  ask  me ! "  but  she  felt  conscious 
that  he  had  read  her  heart,  and  she  therefore  added,  in  a 
scarcely  audible  voice,  "  you  know  it." 

Again  they  were  silent,  but  the  friendly  breeze  whis- 
pered :  Speak !  speak  ! 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  he  said  slowly  —  "  yes,  I  know  how  it 
is.  I  have  seen  it  for  some  time.  Ellina,  you  cannot  any 
longer  live  here.  You  must  be  nearer  your  children, 
nearer  objects  and  persons  who  can  give  you  what  your 
heart,  what  your  soul,  longs  for,  and  what  I  cannot  give." 
23 


354  SKETCHES. 

His  voice  trembled.  Axel's  nature  was  like  unto  the 
scenery  of  his  birthplace.  A  granite  nature  was  his,  but 
when  it  revealed  itself,  life  was  blooming  forth  luxuriantly ; 
paradise  opened  itself.  Generally  taciturn,  he  then  be- 
came eloquent. 

"  Do  not  believe,"  he  said  with  a  violent  exertion,  which 
caused  his  cheeks  to  become  pale,  and  forced  the  tears  into 
his  piercing  eagle  eyes,  "  do  not  believe,  Ellina,  that  I  am 
blind  to  the  dissimilarity  between  us,  and  that  I  do  not  see 
that  in  much  I  am  not  sufficient  for  you.  You  stand  above 
me  in  many  things ;  you  have  more  exalted  and  noble  as- 
pirations, which  it  is  beyond  my  power  to  satisfy.  I  have 
sometimes  endeavored  to  conceal  this  from  myself,  be- 
cause it  has  pained  me.  I  have  tried  to  harden  myself 
against  this  feeling  and  against  you  ;  I  have  walked  as  if 
in  a  fog,  and  placed  a  rock  upon  my  bosom  to  appear  strong 
and  manly.  Your  gentleness  and  your  tears  have  blasted 
the  rock.  O  Ellina !  I  see  by  your  pale  face  that  you  are 
unhappy,  and  that  it  is  I,  who  —  but  no!  I  will  not  make 
you  unhappy,  I,  who  have  sworn  to  live  for  your  happiness. 
Already,  when  last  time  I  had  to  go  away  from  you,  my  res- 
olution was  formed,  and  I  will  now  tell  you  what  it  is.  I 
have  applied  for  some  other  employment  and  to  be  removed 
from  here.  If  my  application  should  be  granted,  which  I 
hope  it  will  be,  you  will  then  be  near  your  childhood's 
home,  near  the  town  in  which  our  boys  are,  and  where  you 
will  be  able  to  find  that  circle  of  friends  and  those  pleas- 
ures which  you  long  for.  You  will  then  be  able  to  see 
our  sons  once  a  week,  if  you  wish  it ;  they  shall  often  come 
to  see  iis.  Believe  me !  I  will  not  remove  them  from 
your  influence;  I  only  wanted  to  remove  them  from  too 
effeminate  an  education  at  home.  I  know  that  there  is 
in  life  but  one  true  high-school,  —  that  in  which  the  heart 
is  educated,  and  to  do  this  a  mother's  heart  is  required.  1 
have  long  been  desirous  of  removing  from  here,  although 
it  cannot  perhaps  be  done  without  some  serious  pecuniary 


SKETCHES.  355 

sacrifices.  It  is  possible  that  I  may  have  hitherto  overesti- 
mated them.  And  now.  if  my  plans  should  not  after  all 
be  realized,  if  the  hopes  which  I  have  raised  should  after 
all  be  disappointed,  or  be  so,  at  any  rate  for  some  time, 
will  you  submit  to  this  patiently,  Ellina  ;  will  you  still  try 
to  be  happy,  to  love  me  —  as  formerly  ?  " 

'•  No,  not  as  formerly,  no,  but  a  thousand  times  more  !  " 
ejaculated  Ellina  with  overflowing  heart.  "  Oh  !  why  speak 
of  missing,  of  waiting,  of  disappointed  hopes  now,  when  I 
see  how  you  think  of  me,  when  I  see  that  you  love  me ! " 

"  But  how  —  how  could  you  have  doubted  ?  " 

"  Alas,  Axe,l !  you  have  been  so  very  much  changed ; 
therefore  every  thing  round  me  has  become  changed." 

"  And  you,  Ellina,  have  you  always  been  the  same  as 
formerly  ?  Have  you  not  often  been  cold,  when  I  ap- 
proached you  with  warm  feelings  ?  Have  you  not  in  later 
years  often  stood  aloof  from  me,  when  —  and  this  very 
evening  —  yes,  /  might  have  reason  to  doubt  that  you  still 
love  me." 

Ellina  was  silent  and  looked  down.  She  felt  conscious 
that  it  was  as  Axel  had  said. 

He  went  on  :  "I  am  too  proud,  Ellina,  and  perhaps  too 
sensitive  also,  to  enforce  a  love  which  is  not  voluntarily 
yielded  to  me.  I  have  stood  aloof,  because  —  you  stood 
aloof.  But  perchance,  I  have  been  more  proud  than  I 
ought  to  have  been,  more  distant  than  I  wanted  to  be.  It 
is  difficult,  Ellina,  to  see  how  far  we  err.  But  one  thing  is 
certain.  I  cannot,  I  will  not  go  on  as  we  have  done  now 
for  some  time.  Give  me  your  hand,  and  —  if  you  can  do 
it  —  give  me  back  your  heart;  read  mine  and  you  will 
see  what  I  mean,  and  —  pardon  me." 

u  Oh,  hush  !  "  said  Ellina,  kissing  away  the  words  from 
his  lips.  "  Oh,  say  nothing  more !  Oh  !  that  I  had 
rightly  understood  you,  you  would  not  then  have  had  any 
reason  to  complain.  But  now  —  God  bless  you  for  having 
said  what  you  have  said !  Be  it  with  our  removal  from 


356  SKETCHES. 

hence  as  it  may,  good  will  come  of  it,  I  feel ;  for  you 
have  again  taken  up  your  abode  in  my  heart,  and  I  feel 
again  at  home  there.  And  now  —  look  !  I  am  yours, 
your  wife,  your  servant,  every  thing  you  wish,  Axel !  I 
feel  that  you  again  are  mine.  Come  death,  come  life, 
cares,  sorrows,  still  I  shall  be  happy  in  you,  in  your  kind- 
ness, in  your  love,  with  the  certainty  that  you  are  mine  and 
that  I  am  yours." 

When  such  words  have  been  uttered  between  husband 
and  wife,  there  is  not  much  more  to  say.  There  is  then 
only  one  language,  silent  yet  eloquent,  one  which  can  ex- 
press the  fullness  of  the  feelings.  Ellina  fejt  the  glowing 
words  fall  like  a  dew  upon  her  throbbing  forehead,  upon 
her  cheeks,  upon  her  eyelids.  Every  wrinkle  of  time,  and 
sorrow  seemed  to  be  effaced  by  these  words.  It  was  as  if 
she  had  become  young  again.  Paradise  was  again  bloom- 
ing within  and  round  the  two. 

When  Axel  rowed  Ellina  back  to  their  house,  the  moon 
had  gone  down  behind  the  hills  and  the  night  had  become 
quite  dark.  But  the  sea  shone  and  sparkled  at  every 
stroke,  and  fiery  pearls  dropped  from  the  oars.  Over  the 
heads  of  husband  and  wife  the  stars  peeped  forth  out  of 
the  fleecy  clouds,  and  "  the  bridal-lights  on  the  height  " 
shone  and  danced  brighter  than  usual  against  the  dark 
sky.  "  The  bridal  lights  "  shone  again  in  Ellina's  heart, 
and  everywhere,  in  the  sky  and  on  the  earth,  she  beheld 
again  as  on  her  own  bridal-night,  "  so  many,  oh,  so  many 
lights." 

And  it  was  never  more  to  be  extinguished,  the  steady 
beam  which  fell  into  her  heart ;  its  waves  might  rise  or 
fall,  but  light  would  always  be  there.  The  consciousness 
of  this  filled  Ellina  with  celestial,  child-like  joy.  Yes, 
she  was  so  happy,  so  confident,  that  she  became  almost 
like  a  child.  She  toyed  with  the  glittering  ripples  —  they 
also  were  full  of  love's  life  —  she  splashed  her  hands  in 
them,  and  made  them  glisten  and  glitter,  and  in  wanton 


SKETCHES.  357 

delight  she  sprinkled  Axel's  hands  and  face  with  water, 
while  he  was  paying  her  back  the  showers  of  fire  and 
water  which  she  gave  him.  Their  eyes  sparkled  in  the 
dark,  starry  night  —  their  soul's  wedding-night. 

But  when  Ellina  on  the  following  morning  entered  her 
kitchen,  she  looked  like  the  rosy  tint  of  the  young  day,  il- 
luminating "  Miss  Unready's "  soul  and  mind  so  that  they 
threw  a  reflected  light  into  the  darkest  corners  of  the  eel- 

O 

lars  and  pantry.  Ways  and  means  for  every  thing  were 
found  at  once.  "  Spinach  ! "  No  question  about  spinach 
any  longer  ;  no  thought  of  poor  spinach,  mean,  miserable 
food  !  Sausages,  roast  joints,  the  fish  of  the  sea,  the  birds 
of  the  air,  came  as  if  by  enchantment.  Kitchen  and  table 
became  full.  Nothing  was  wanting,  or  if  any  thing  was 
wanting  it  was  not  noticed,  which  is  better  still. 

And  they  who  know  what  a  mighty  wizard  a  joyful 
stout  heart  is,  and  how  it  knows  the  primordial  word  which 
is  the  key  to  and  can  command  every  thing,  will  not  be 
astonished  at  this. 

I  will  not  tell  you  any  thing  about  the  projected  removal, 
whether  it  took  place  or  not,  because  I  do  not  know  any 
thing  about  it.  But  I  must  tell  you  that  within  a  year  a 
girl  was  born,  who  was  christened  after  father  and  mother, 
Axellina.  And  if  you  should  want  to  know  how  the  sun's 
light  and  joy  can  become,  as  it  were,  embodied  in  a  human 
face,  I  would  then  show  you  the  face  of  this  child,  show 
you  its  bright  curls  and  laughing  eyes.  No  language  is 
more  incomprehensible  and  more  charming  than  the  words 
which  flow  from  its  little  mouth,  chirping  bird  eloquence. 
The  honeysuckle  tendrils  cannot  be  more  wild  and  lissom 
in  their  growth  than  this  little  girl.  You  should  see  her 
in  thousand  graceful,  ever  varying  attitudes,  twining  her 
arms  around  her  father,  or  playing  at  his  feet.  And  if  ever 
a  strong,  firm  man  can  be  conquered  and  ensnared  by  the 
witcheries  of  a  little  child,  it  is  Axel  Ern,  when  he  holds 
in  his  arms  the  wild,  supple,  laughing,  charming  little  girl, 


358  SKETCHES. 

pressing  her  in  silent  eloquence  to  his  heart,  or  sitting  at 
night  beside  her  little  crib,  hearing  her  saying  her  pray- 
ers, while  from  her  —  he  again  learns  to  pray.  Yes,  he  is 
not  a  whit  better  than  Hercules  spinning  at  the  feet  of  the 
young  Omphale.  I  think  that  he  is  even  a  little  worse  and 
more  weak,  being  fettered  by  a  yet  weaker  and  more  child- 
ish being. 

Ellina  threatens  sometimes  —  and  you  may  guess  how 
seriously  —  to  send  the  little  girl  out  of  the  house  to  a 
boarding  -  school,  as  otherwise,  "  she  will  be  perfectly 
spoilt "  by  her  father,  and  she  ought  in  time  to  learn  to 
become  "  a  sensible  woman."  The  father  says  nothing  to 
these  threats,  but  he  lays  the  child  in  the  mother's  arms 
and  then  embraces  them  both.  He  is  meanwhile  very 
anxious  for  all  the  boys  to  come  home  during  the  holidays. 

Ellina  is  no  longer  pale  and  suffering.  She  is  a  bloom- 
ing middle-aged  matron,  with  the  calmness  of  happiness 
in  her  whole  being,  and  she  likes  to  say  to  young  married 
women :  "  When  the  time  of  first  love  is  passed,  then 
conies  something  better  still,  something  more  beautiful ; 
then  comes  the  second  love,  the  faithful  friendship,  which 
never  changes,  which  makes  every  thing  bright  and  peace- 
ful. But  we  ought  to  manage  so  that  it  does  come.  Then 
every  thing  changes,  every  thing  turns  to  the  best." 

Miss  Unready  was  also  changed,  metamorphosed  into 
Mrs.  Sheriff  Ready.  But  whether  her  spinachomania  has 
also  changed,  I  am  not  aware. 

The  eaglets  have  grown  up  to  be  young  eagles.  When 
from  their  flight  over  earth's  or  thought's  sea  they  revisit 
their  eyrie  with  tales  from  foreign  lands,  and  with  new  dis- 
coveries in  science  and  art,  then  much  is  added  to  the 
wealth  within  it. 

But  Bohuslan's  rocks,  they  stand  now  as  before; 
The  waves  of  the  Cattegat  flow  as  of  yore  ; 
To-day  they  roll  on 
As  in  centuries  gone. 


SKETCHES.  359 

The  flames  of  the  light-house  —  kind  reader,  pray 

Think  of  the  nuptial  torches  so  gay, 

They  Tre  turning  and  turning  and  turning  to-day. 

THE  EAGLESS. 

IT  was  morning,  and  the  sun  was  shining  brightly.  The 
Eagle's  sister  sat  in  her  eyrie  upon  the  cliff,  looking  with 
longing  eyes  into  bright  space,  involuntarily  raising  her 
wings,  untried  as  yet.  Proudly  heaved  her  breast. 

"  Towards  the  sun  !  Up,  towards  the  sun  !  "  thus  a  voice 
seemed  to  say  within  her.  "  Why  should  not  I  also  see 
the  glorious  one  nearer,  bathe  my  eye  in  his  light,  and  drink 
strength  from  his  rays  ?  Why  should  not  the  pilgrimage 
of  the  Eagless  to  the  sun  be  praised  in  song,  as  well  as 
that  of  the  Eagle  ?  My  sight  is  strong,  my  wings  young, 
my  will  powerful ;  up,  up,  towards  the  sun,  towards  the 
sun!" 

She  flew.  The  morning,  the  sunlight,  and  the  freshness 
of  endless  space,  the  feeling  of  youthful  vigor  and  energy 
filled  her  breast  with  delight. 

In  order  to  rest  herself  awhile,  to  look  round  and  enjoy 
the  new,  beautiful  life,  she  perched  upon  the  top  of  an  oak. 

In  the  woods  below  all  kinds  of  birds  had  flocked  to- 
gether. They  had  witnessed  her  bold  flight. 

"  Trillili,  well,  well,  trillili !  "  sang  the  larks,  exultingly ; 
"  fly  on,  Eagless,  thou  wilt  be  the  glory  of  thy  sex  ! " 

"  Courage  ! "  cried  a  noble  heron,  "  courage,  my  little 
friend ! " 

"  Hail,  sister,  hail ! "  sang  the  white  swans,  sailing 
among  verdant  islets. 

"  Croak,  croak  !  "  croaked  the  crow,  "  that  flight  is  dan- 
gerous ;  take  care  of  yourself,  my  dear  young  lady." 

"  Coo-coo-coo  !  "  cooed  the  dove  ;  "  why  dost  thou  seek 
happiness  so  far  away  ?  Stay  at  home  in  your  nest ;  warm 
yourself  beside  your  mate  ;  hatch  your  eggs  and  feed  your 
young  ones,  and  you  may  live  many,  many  years !  Coo- 
coo-coo  ! " 


360  SKETCHES. 

"  Kle-vit,  kle-vit !  "  screeched  an  owl.  "  Some  mischief 
will  be  done  here." 

"  Some  mischief  will  be  done  here,"  repeated  starlings 
and  parrots. 

"  All  goes  well,  all  goes  well ! "  cried  a  flock  of  merry 
wild  geese  ;  "  very  well ! " 

But  a  young  and  noble  Eagle  came  and  perched  beside 
the  Eagless,  saying  gently  and  tenderly :  "  Thy  flight  is 
beautiful,  but  the  road  is  long  and  thy  strength  is  not  yet 
sufficient.1  Let  me  accompany  thee ;  when  thou  beginnest 
to  break  down,  my  wing  shall  support  thee  ;  it  shall  shade 
thy  eyes  when  the  sun  begins  to  dazzle  them  ;  and  when 
danger  approaches,  or  when  thou  tirest  in  thy  flight,  I 
will  lead  thee  to  my  safe  nest,  yonder,  upon  that  far  off 
cliff,  and  stay  beside  thee  ! " 

Gratefully  declining  his  offer,  the  Eagless  bent  her  head 
to  the  noble  bird :  "  I  will  be  alone,"  she  answered  ;  "  alone 
will  I  work  out  my  destiny  !  "  The  cries  of  the  other  birds 
she  took  no  notice  of.  She  hastened  only  to  the  voice  in 
her  own  breast :  "  Up  towards  the  sun,  towards  the  sun  ! " 

And  again  she  raised  her  wings.  Enraptured  by  the 
sun,  by  the  freshness  and  joy,  she  rose  higher  and  higher, 
far  away  from  all  the  others. 

Sadly  and  gloomily  the  young  Eagle  shook  his  wings, 
turned  his  eye  away  from  the  daring  one,  chose  another 
mate,  and  conducted  her  to  his  eyrie  on  the  distant  cliff. 

Meanwhile,  the  Eagless  pursued  her  flight  alone,  and  ap- 
proached nearer  the  sun.  But  alas !  her  eyes  were  sud- 
denly dazzled,  her  head  became  dizzy,  and  she  could  not 
any  longer  clearly  see  her  road.  Still  she  flew  on,  but  un- 
consciously she  had  lowered  her  flight  towards  earth.  A 
sportsman  saw  her ;  he  aimed  at  her  with  his  murderous 
weapon  ;  he  fired,  and  —  the  lead  was  buried  near  the 
Eagless'  heart. 

i  Ornithologists  must  excuse  the  authoress  for  having  in  her  poetical 
allegory  depreciated  the  physical  strength  of  the  Eagless. 


SKETCHES.  361 

On  she  flew  still,  but  not  upwards ;  she  flew  towards  the 
deep,  deep  forest.  She  felt  herself  struck  by  death. 

Far  into  the  dark  forest  she  flew,  and  the  dark  forest 
closed  rustling  around  her,  concealing  her  from  all  eyes. 

With  bleeding  bosom  and  a  tear  in  her  dimmed  eye,  the 
Eagless  perched  upon  a  fir-tree's  branch.  "  Happy  for 
me,"  she  sighed,  "  that  I  die  unlamented  and  alone ! " 

Then  she  heard  the  dove  coo  to  her  young  ones : 
'-  Daughters  of  mine !  Do  not  do  as  the  Eagless  !  The 
proud  silly  one  will  surely  come  to  grief  in  her  flight. 
Stay  at  home  in  your  valley,  in  your  peaceful  nests,  and  you 
will  live  many,  many  years." 

"  I  have  erred ! "  said  the  Eagless,  but  proudly  her 
heart  swelled  under  the  deadly  wound ;  "  from  youthful 
presumption  have  I  erred  and  am  punished.  But  silently 
I  submit  to  my  fate ;  may  others  be  more  happy !  I  do 
not  complain,  for  I  have  beheld  the  sun  nearer  ! " 

"  Kle-vit,  kle-vit ! "  screeched  the  owls. 

"  Kle-vit,  kle-vit !  "  repeated  the  starlings  and  parrots. 

"  All  goes  well,  all  goes  well !  "  tauntingly  sang  the  wild 
geese,  while  they  sailed  away  over  the  forest 

"  I  die,"  said  the  Eagless,  with  expiring  strength ;  "  I 
die,  but  —  the  sun  !  I  have  beheld  the  sun  nearer ! 
Happy  for  me  ! " 

And  from  the  branch  on  which  she  had  perched,  she  fell 
down  with  expanded  wings,  and  was  no  more. 

THE  NOVEL  AND  THE  NOVELS. 

"  THIS  is  the  time  for  Novels ;  but  what  is  to  come  after 
the  Novels  ?  "  a  literary  man  said  to  me  one  day,  half  in 
jest.  I  do  not  now  exactly  remember  what  I  answered  — 
something  thoughtless,  I  believe ;  but  I  began  afterwards 
to  ponder  on  this  subject  —  the  Novels. 

I  had  read,  nay  devoured,  in  the  course  of  my  life  —  I 
cannot  tell  how  many  dozen  novels,  and  I  had  wept  and 
laughed  over  them,  loved,  reveled,  lived,  and  almost  died  in 


362  SKETCHES. 

them  ;  my  soul  has  transmigrated  through  their  Sophias, 
Julias,  Rosas,  Amandas,  Alices,  Elizas,  until  I  was  on  the 
point  of  losing  myself,  when,  in  a  fright,  I  vowed  a  deadly 
hatred  of  all  novels ;  wished  their  eternal  thema,  Love,,  at 
Jericho,  and  determined  to  live  for  reality,  and  to  cultivate 
friendship  and  potatoes. 

About  this  time  I  began  myself  to  write  ;  not  novels, 
oh  dear,  no ;  but  lo !  before  I  knew  a  word  about  it,  it 
turned  out  to  be  a  novel  after  all,  or  something  very  like  it. 
Gracious  Heaven  !  had  I  not  then  suffered  enough  from 
the  poisonous  stuff?  And  was  I  now  going  to  poison 
others  with  it  ?  And  yet  I  wished  to  do  something  quite 
different.  Have  I  not  known  young  ladies,  who,  through 
romantic  whims,  had  mistaken  the  aim  of  their  life,  failed 
to  become  real  human  beings,  because  they  had  failed  to 
become  happy  heroines  of  romance ;  who  for  the  love  and 
moonlight  of  the  novel  had  forgotten  life's  real  light ;  sigh- 
ing for  grand  dramatic  effects,  until  they  had  forgotten  the 
significance  of  their  own  part  in  the  great  drama  of  life  ? 
Have  I  not  known  young  men,  who,  enamored  and  daz- 
zled by  romantic  scenes,  had  forgotten  to  be  honest  men, 
and  who,  when  they  came  out  of  the  world  of  illusions  into 
the  world  of  reality,  saw  therein  nothing  but  prose,  and 
want,  and  "  reality's  barren  rocks,"  on  which  no  beauty  and 
no  happiness  could  grow.  Have  I  not  at  one  time  been  so 
"  novel  possessed,"  that  every  time  I  went  to  church  I  ex- 
pected to  be  carried  off  on  the  road  ?  No,  no  ;  by  no 
means  —  no  more  novels  ;  away  with  them  all ! 

So  I  exclaimed,  but  at  that  moment  I  saw  marching  up 
before  me  silently  the  whole  host  of  novels  in  formidable 
array.  From  England  they  came,  from  France,  from  Den- 
mark, from  North  America,  aye,  also  from  China  (whose 
long  novel,  "  The  Two  Brides,  Miss  Li  and  Miss  Lo"  one 
cannot  praise  without  being  one's  self  a  Chinese,  or  Mr. 
Abel  Remusat 1).  And  I  saw  this  host  rising  out  of  the 
1  The  name  of  the  translator. 


SKETCHES.  363 

bosom  of  even  my  own  native  country,  all  forming  an  army 
of  millions,  billions,  trillions  of  volumes.  They  marched 
towards  me,  and  I  heard  them  say  in  a  voice  like  thunder : — 

"  Behold  in  us  a  power  upon  earth :  we  are  mighty  under 
the  sun  ;  citizens  in  all  enlightened  countries ;  beloved  by 
all  enlightened  nations  ;  at  home  in  the  enlightened  home 
of  all  enlightened  nations ;  enjoying  the  friendship  of  old 
and  of  young,  of  professors  and  of  students,  of  octogena- 
rian matrons,  and  of  maidens  still  in  their  teens.  He  who 
would  combat  us,  must  first  be  prepared  to  conquer  all 
these." 

What  a  terrible  prospect ;  enough  to  make  even  a  Napo- 
leon beat  a  retreat !  What,  then,  could  such  a  dwarf  as  I 
am,  do  ?  Must  I  not  lay  down  arms,  rescue  or  no  rescue, 
and  own  myself  vanquished  ?  Or  shall  I,  like  another 
Charles  XII ,  fight  against  the  Turks  (the  novels  must,  in 
that  case,  represent  the  Turks,  although  they,  as  I  believe, 
are  not  guilty  of  writing  novels),  and  gain  immortal  glory 
even  by  my  own  overthrow  ?  This  would  be  a  prospect 
which  might  inspire  me  with  courage.  I  might  try  it,  but 
the  worst  of  it  is,  that  —  yes,  I  feel  it  —  I  would  then  have 
to  fight  against  myself  also. 

I  hold  the  firm  belief,  namely,  that  what  has  occupied 
mankind  for  a  long  period,  must  have  some  reason  in  it, 
some  common  sense,  something  connected  with  what  is 
eternally  true  and  rational.  And  as  now  mankind,  since 
more  than  a  century,  writes  and  reads  novels,  and  as  this 
taste  for  them,  instead  of  decreasing,  is  increasing  more 
and  more,  and  is  spreading  further  and  further,  therefore, 
my  friend  !  I  hope  that  you  will  see  the  conclusive  argu- 
ment yourself. 

And  then,  after  carefully  sounding  my  own  soul,  was 
there  nothing  in  it,  which  spoke  in  favor  of  the  worth  of 
the  novel ;  of  the  many  delightful  moments,  the  warm 
feelings,  the  beautiful  pictures,  which  it  has  given  me  to 
enjoy  ?  And  did  I  not,  amongst  the  many  weeds  which 


364  SKETCHES. 

the  novels  have  sown,  note  also  the  seeds  of  noble  plants, 
of  shading  trees,  which  have  since  grown  and  become  de- 
veloped ?  And  now,  when  the  soul  has  grown  older  and 
calmer,  has  it  not  often  been  awaked  by  the  novel  to  warm 
sympathy  with  man's  joys  and  sufferings,  and  did  not  the 
novel  call  forth  kindly  and  generous  feelings  ?  Yes,  yes, 
it  is  so,  and  the  result  of  it  all  is  that  — 

Novels  certainly  must  have  a  sensible,  good  aim ;  must 
have  the  right  of  citizenship  in  the  world. 

But,  what  is  it  they  really  aim  at  ?  Do  they  want  merely 
to  amuse,  to  awaken  sympathy,  to  excite  the  imagination, 
to  light  up  playfully  the  depth  of  the  human  soul,  and  the 
innumerable  winding  passages  and  mazes  in  life's  laby- 
rinth ?  Are  they  to  be  looked  upon  as  resembling  those 
millions  of  butterflies  which,  coaxed  out  of  the  chrysalides 
by  the  warm  sun-rays,  flutter  about,  delighting  us  a  short 
time  with  their  splendor  and  with  the  brilliancy  of  their 
colors,  and  then  die  ?  Nothing  more  ?  Impossible.  There 
must  be  something  more  in  it.  But  what  ? 

Think  only,  if  those  legions  from  all  nations  and  coun- 
tries should  have  an  invisible  leader,  a  commander-in-chief 
round  whose  standard  they  gather,  for  whose  plans  they 
fight,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  bravely  or  timidly, 
according  to  circumstances.  But  if  this  is  so,  I  must  look 
to  this  leader,  the  Napoleon  of  the  novel  army,  to  discover 
the  movements  of  the  grand  army  and  its  object. 

A  bright  idea  ! 

Goethe  searched  for  the  primeval  plant ;  the  philologist 
is  seeking  for  the  primeval  language  ;  the  Finnish  exorcists 
searched  for  the  primeval  word  of  things,  and  I  went  in 
search  of  the  primeval  novel. 

I  called  up  the  spirits  which  have  made  the  greatest 
impression  upon  me,  from  Grandison,  Joseph  Andrews, 
Corinna,  and  Rousseau's  beautiful  Heloise,  up  to  the  variety 
of  works  of  our  own  days,  and  I  adjured  the  Spirit  of  these 
spirits  to  reveal  to  me  his  nature  and  his  aim. 


SKETCHES.  365 

And  I  heard  him  answer :  — 

"  In  me  them  seest  a  picture  of  man's  inner  development. 
I  represent  the  metamorphoses  of  human  life,  ascending 
and  descending  in  accordance  with  eternally  ruling  laws. 
What  thou  seest  in  me  is  thy  own  past,  or  present,  or 
future  history.  Therefore  thou  learnest  of  me,  whilst  thou 
lookest  into  my  mirror,  or  beholdest  how  this  world  goes 
on.  And  out  of  my  lesson  I  create  for  thee  a  pleasure. 
For  I  take  the  flowers  of  the  day,  and  the  stars  of  the 
night,  and  I  dye  my  robes  in  Aurora's  roses,  in  order, 
beloved  one  !  to  come  to  thee  and  make  thee  happy  with 
my  beauty,  by  showing  thee  life's  dark  mysteries,  making 
them  light  to  thee,  through  my  earnestness.  On  my  arms 
I  raise  thee  above  the  earth,  and  let  thee  behold  the  struggle 
which  agitates  man's  bosom.  "Wherever  thou  seest  powers 
wrestling  with  each  other,  developing  themselves  under 
liberty's  banner,  either  for  good  or  for  evil ;  wherever  thou 
seest  life's  most  secret  history,  lighted  by  the  torch  of 
heavenly  love,  there  also  thou  seest  me  —  the  novel." 

"Yes,  the  genuine  one,"  I  exclaimed  involuntarily. 
"Beautiful  Genius!  I  understand  thee,  but"  ....  I  un- 
derstand also  clearly  why  the  world  loves  the  novel  so 
much,  but  I  learnt  to  distinguish  more  keenly  between 
the  genuine  and  the  false;  between  the  enlightened 
and  the  blind  imitators  of  the  genius  whose  words  I 
have  just  quoted.  I  beheld  a  countless  number  of  novels, 
so  widely  differing  from  him,  that  in  order  to  find  again 
the  primeval  novel  it  would  be  necessary  to  refer  man 
from  his  books  to  his  own  life.  For  even  in  the  most 
commonplace  human  life  we  discover  the  metamorphoses 
which  constitute  the  nature  of  the  novel  —  life's  changes, 
its  transitions.  In  whose  life  are  there  not  struggles,  if 
ever  so  silent,  defeats,  and  victories  ?  Where  do  we  not 
see  obligations  between  people,  be  they  lovers,  or  brothers 
and  sisters,  married  couples,  parents  or  children  ?  where  do 
we  not  see  the  deepest  of  all  relations,  the  tenderest,  the 


366  SKETCHES. 

mightiest,  the  most  romantic  —  the  relation  between  man 
and  his  highest,  his  best,  his  first  and  his  last  friend  ?  I 
also  have  a  little  objection  to  novels  in  general,  when  I 
compare  them  to  the  novel  of  novels  —  real,  living  life. 

It  is  because  they  occupy  themselves  too  much  with  con- 
jugating, in  a  certain  exclusive  sense,  the  eternal  verb.  I 
love,  thou  lovest,  we  love,  etc.,  etc.  Yes,  I  object  a  little 
to  this,  for  I  find  that  it  is  not  so  on  earth.  I  am  of  the 
opinion  of  England's  great  Dr.  Johnson,  when  he  says  in 
his  preface  to  Shakespeare's  works :  "  Love  is  only  one  of 
many  passions,  and  as  it  has  no  great  influence  upon  the 
sum  of  life,  it  has  little  operation  in  the  dramas  of  a  poet 
who  caught  his  ideas  from  the  living  world,  and  exhibited 
only  what  he  saw  before  him.  He  knew  that  any  other 
passion,  according  as  it  be  regular  or  exorbitant,  is  a  cause 
of  happiness  or  calamity." 

There  are  novels  which  are  free  from  the  one-sidedness  of 
which  I  have  complained,  and  which  contain  much  of  the 
best  which  characterizes  the  genuine  novel.  Their  worth 
lies  above  all  in  the  moral  tone  which  breathes  through 
them  like  a  healthy,  invigorating  breeze,  and  which  holds 
up  to  view  the  influence  of  good  over  circumstances,  and 
also  man's  power  to  help  himself.  We  see  in  them  the 
good  intent,  the  pure  purpose,  perseverance,  industry,  pa- 
tience struggling  with  all  kinds  of  difficulties,  conquering  at 
last,  and  man  becoming  the  creator  of  his  own  happiness. 
These  novels  can  have  a  beneficial  influence  upon  youthful 
minds  on  the  point  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  life  and 
the  world. 

All  novels  which  approach  the  primeval  novel,  I  wish 
every  success  and  an  inconceivable  number  of  readers. 
These  readers  I  wish  mind  and  sense  rightly  to  understand 
them;  for  true  is  the  saying  of  Lichtenberg:  "  If,  when  a 
book  and  a  head  happen  to  knock  against  each  other,  it 
should  sound  hollow  or  discordant,  it  is  not  always  the 
fault  of  the  book." 


SKETCHES.  367 

And  if  any  body  hereafter  should  ask  me, "  What  is  to 
come  after  the  novel  ?  "  I  intend  answering :  "  The  day  of 
judgment." 

But  who  can  answer  for,  that  after  the  day  of  judgment 
a  new  evolution  of  an  entirely  new  romantic  literature  and 
new  novels  shall  not  take  its  beginning  ?  This  seems  very 
probable. 

THE  ROMANCE,  THE  EPOS  OF  OUR  DAY. 

ADAM  OKHLEXSCHLAGER  has  said  truly  and  to  the  point, 
"  The  romance  is  the  Epos  of  our  day,"  and  although 
learned  men  have  proved  that  the  ancient  Greek  Epos  is 
not  strictly  an  heroic  poem,  not  the  same  as  the  epopee, 
still  they  grant  that  the  "  Epos  "  is  a  narrative  of  actions  or 
occurrences  in  which  one  person  is  the  principal  figure, 
who  therefore  becomes  the  hero  or  heroine  of  such  a  narra- 
tive. 

A  German  scholar  says  that  the  distinguishing  character- 
istic of  the  heroic  poem  is,  "  that  it  contains  what  interests 
all  mankind."  But  so  does  every  narrative  which  tends  to 
the  honor  of  humanity.  The  ancient  "  Epos,"  and  its 
younger  brother  the  romance,  appear  thus  both  to  come 
so  near  the  heroic  poem,  that  they  may  lay  claim  to  its 
title,  honor,  and  dignities.  The  hero  of  the  modern  epic 
poem  is  quite  different  from  that  of  the  ancients,  and  his 
life  and  achievements  are  measured  by  a  different  standard. 
The  hero  of  the  ancient  "  Epos  "  is,  generally,  a  gladiator, 
who  conquers  by  means  of  assassinations  and  cunning,  and 
who  slays  a  great  number  of  people.  He  is  handsome, 
brave,  fortunate,  and  his  grand  achievements  consist  in 
battles.  But  the  hero  of  romance  is,  above  all  men,  the 
feeling,  thinking,  moral  man,  in  his  struggle  with  the  world 
on  his  road  to  the  goal  which  his  genius  points  out  to  him. 
The  ancient  "  Epos  "  knows  only  a  few  human  beings,  and 
they  are  the  favorites  of  the  gods  ;  they  are  the  great  and 
gifted  ones  upon  earth.  All  the  rest  of  mankind  is  merely 


368  SKETCHES. 

rabble,  good  enough  to  serve  as  stepping-stones  to  the  ad- 
vancement and  rise  of  the  hero.  In  the  Epos  of  modern 
times  every  man  can  be  the  hero,  every  woman  the  heroine ; 
for  man  is  the  chosen  favorite,  loved  by  God,  called  to 
great  destinies,  to  the  possession  of  a  measureless  realm. 

This  is  owing  to  the  ancient  Epos  being  a  Pagan,  where- 
as the  romance  is  baptized  in  the  life  of  Christianity. 
Christianity  attributes  to  every  human  soul  an  infinite 
worth  before  God,  and  an  infinite  possibility  of  perfection. 
It  makes  man  the  inmost  essence  of  creation. 

The  romance,  the  novel,  understood  this  doctrine,  and 
grouped  round  its  hero,  round  the  loving,  searching, 
struggling  man,  as  his  world,  nature,  science,  arts,  society. 
To  the  romance,  man  is  the  centre  of  life,  and  it  is  his  task 
to  explain  life.  In  the  romance  man  is  still  a  conqueror, 
but  to  bless ;  and  his  first  and  greatest  victories  are  won 
upon  an  inward  battle-field  —  within  his  own  breast.  If 
victorious  there,  he  conquers  the  world. 

The  romance  became  thus  essentially  a  biography.  In  the 
delineation  of  the  individual  man,  it  purposes  to  show  the 
human  in  every  sphere  of  the  existence.  The  hero,  or  the 
heroine,  is  the  representative  of  the  higher,  the  spiritual 
humanity,  who  through  it  vanquishes  devils  and  goblins, 
and  is  declared,  though  often  not  before  death,  the  victor. 
The  romance  preaches  to  every  body  this  counsel,  "  Learn 
to  conquer !  "  It  is  a  multifarious  paraphrase  of  the  words 
"  Behold  the  man." 

The  romance  says  further  to  man,  "  Behold  thy  world,  in 
all  its  beauty,  its  deformity,  its  greatness,  its  littleness,  its 
pleasantness,  its  bitterness,  in  a  word,  in  all  its  reality." 

To  a  clear-sighted  criticism  no  doubts  can  therefore 
arise  of  the  great  importance  and  value  of  the  romance  in 
literature  as  a  means  of  higher  cultivation.  To  a  clear- 
sighted criticism  therefore  the  romance  ought  to  present 
itself  as  one  of  the  most  deeply  influencing  art-productions 
which  civilization  has  produced. 


SKETCHES.  369 

The  great  development  which  romance  literature  has  at- 
tained during  this  century,  is  a  proof  according  to  my 
opinion  of  the  great  humanizing  development  of  the  age  ; 
and  the  fact  that  romance  or  novel-reading  has  become  a 
favorite  study  throughout  all  classes  of  society,  shows  their 
sound  taste  and  clear  eye.  We  are  here  ready  to  say  with 
Madame  de  Sevigne,  "  Mon  ami,  le  public  a  Ion  nez  et  ne  se 
meprend  guere" 

The  question  of  the  value  of  the  romance  in  general 
ought  to  be  restricted  to  a  question  of  the  value  of  such  or 
such  a  romance  in  relation  to  its  purport  as  a  romance, 
as  the  epic  poem  of  mankind.1 

We  do  not  deny  that  the  romance  has  frequently  mis- 
taken its  aim  ;  that  it  has  often  carried  darkness  and 
poison  in  its  leaves  instead  of  light  and  healing  life. 

This  constitutes  its  sin.  But  this  sin  ought  to  be  as 
little  ascribed  to  the  whole  race  of  romances,  as  Nero's 
abominations  ought  to  be  laid  at  the  door  of  mankind. 

Far  more  frequently  the  romance  has  carried  pleasure, 
comfort,  hope,  strength,  healing  life  to  man's  heart.  It  will 
do  so  in  a  far  greater  measure  when  it  has  learnt  better  to 
understand  itself  and  its  mission. 

Rousseau's  "  Heloise,"  Richardson's  "  Pamela,"  St. 
Pierre's  "  Chaumiere  Indienne,"  and'  in  later  times  "  Con- 
suelo,"  by  Madame  Du  Devant,  are  beautiful  human  epic 
poems,  justly  admired  by  all  nations  and  models  of  the 
Epos  of  our  time.  Higher  still  than  they  stands  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  the  book  of  our  own  days,  which  is  being 
read  most  and  is  most  liked ;  for  not  only  does  nature, 
family  life,  and  life's  moral  questions  group  themselves 
round  the  man  who  is  the  centre  of  the  narrative,  but  the 

1  We  can  discover  in  romance  literature  two  leading  tendencies,  like 
those  'which  in  painting  are  called  the  Italian  and  the  Flemish  school.  The 
former  tries  to  represent  the  ideal,  the  latter  strives  more  to  show  a  vigor- 
ous and  pithy  reality.  Our  Swedish  literature  has  to  thank  Mrs.  Emilie 
Carlen  for  exquisite  pictures  of  this  latter  kind;  pictures  which  have 
scarcely  been  equaled. 

24 


370  SKETCHES. 

profoundcst  and  most  weighty  questions  of  life,  of  the 
state,  and  of  society,  throng  along  this  lonely,  loving,  bleed- 
ing human  heart  to  receive  light  and  judgment.1 

And  what  is  the  man  who  is  here  the  hero  ;  who  makes 
our  hearts  beat,  our  eyes  shed  tears  ;  who  lets  the  people  of 
two  worlds  feel  the  same  interest,  the  same  sorrow,  make 
the  same  reflections,  and  converse  on  the  same  common 
subject;  a  subject  which  belongs  to  —  humanity  at  large? 
He  is  the  humblest,  the  most  defenseless,  the  most  despised 
of  men  ;  a  man  who  can  scarcely  read,  who  cannot  write 
at  all  —  a  poor  negro-slave.  But  he  is  a  man  in  the  high- 
est acceptation  of  the  word,  for  he  is  a  Christian.  And 
humanity  rejoices  in  him  over  its  highest  life. 

Thus  far  the  divine  hero  has  advanced,  and  thus  far  the 
romance  has  followed  his  footsteps  in  raising  man. 

The  romance,  and  its  sisters  the  novels  and  sketches, 
have  likewise  this  merit,  that  they  make  us  acquainted 
with  far  distant  lands  and  nations,  in  a  more  hearty  and 
living  manner  than  other  books  are  capable  of  doing  it. 
Travels  give  us  a  description  of  outward  things  and  situa- 
tions. Scientific  works  can  inform  us  of  a  country's  geog- 
raphy and  geology,  of  its  Flora  and  Fauna,  etc.,  etc.,  —  and 
of  the  character  of  its  people.  The  romance,  on  the  other 
hand,  lets  us  see  the  heart  of  the  people  and  its  inward  life. 
It  opens  to  us  the  home ;  shows  us  the  father,  the 
youth,  the  maiden,  the  child,  the  servant ;  shows  us  what 
constitutes  the  aim  of  their  life,  their  joys  and  sorrows, 
their  work  and  pastime ;  shows  us  the  trees  which  afford 
them  shade,  and  the  flowers  which  delight  them  ;  lets  us,  in 
a  word,  see  man  in  his  human  world,  and  lets  us  see  that 
world  in  its  peculiar  form  in  such  a  land  and  amongst  such 
a  people. 

And  we  know  scarcely  a  greater,  and  at  the  same  time  a 

1  The  English  novels  "  Mary  Barton"  and  "  Alton  Locke  "  discuss  like- 
wise the  great  social  questions  of  the  day  (in  England)  in  their  relation  to 
man,  who  in  them  appears  in  his  highest  signification  as  a  member  of  soci 
ety.  The  political  or  social  novel  thus  appears  upon  the  stage. 


SKETCHES.  371 

more  useful  enjoyment,  than  to  be  transported  from  our 
quiet  home,  as  if  by  a  magician's  wand,  to  foreign  coun- 
tries, and  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  new  characters,  and 
a  new  state  of  things,  and  to  learn  from  them,  at  any 
rate,  what  is  going  on  in  the  world. 

For  although  Sweden's  noble  and  amiable  poet,  Franzen, 
did  characterize  the  romance  as  "  an  occurrence  which 
has  never  occurred,"  still  we  venture  to  assert  that  every 
thing  which  the  true  romance  describes,  has  really  hap- 
pened and  happens  every  day,  if  not  exactly  in  the  same 
way  as  told  in  the  romance,  yet  in  an  analogous  manner, 
and  that  no  romance  is  so  romantic  as  is  frequently 
actual  life. 

We  would  wish  that  every  young  man  and  every  young 
girl  would  understand  their  life  in  its  truly  romantic  signifi- 
cation, and  that  they  would  at  an  early  age  think  of  writ- 
ing their  autobiography.  The  romance  in  it  would  be 
more  than  a  little  love-story. 

But  if  it  is  a  love-story  on  a  grand  scale,  so  much  the 
better. 

The  genuine  romance  is  such  a  biography. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  mission  of  the  romance — to 
bring  near  each  other  far  distant  people  and  countries  by  a 
delineation  of  their  inner  life. 

The  American  people  have  been  glad  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  Sweden  and  its  home-life  through  Swedish 
novels.  Swedish  readers  who,  through  "  Uncle  Tom," 
have  been  introduced  to  North  American  houses,  natural 
scenery,  and  social  conditions,  will  no  doubt  with  increasing 
interest  renew  the  acquaintance  with  America  through 
American  novels  and  sketches.  They  who,  with  a  beat- 
ing heart,  have  followed  "  Uncle  Tom "  through  his 
checkered  life,  will  willingly  follow  her  who  has  described 
the  same  in  her  sketches  of  characters  and  scenes  amongst 
the  descendants  of  the  Pilgrims,  given  in  the  "  May- 
flower," the  first  full-blown  flower  of  her  talent  as  an 


372  SKETCHES. 

authoress.  She  was,  while  writing  that  work,  a  young 
mother,  taken  up  by  domestic  cares,  of  which  the  little 
sketch,  "  A  Mother's  Trials,"  is  a  humorous  picture. 

She  wrote  these  sketches  in  her  leisure  hours,  for  a 
small  circle  of  friends,  without  at  that  time  thinking  of 
publishing  the  same. 

They  are  the  firstlings  of  a  youthful,  richly  endowed 
soul,  and  although  they  carry  the  impress  of  firstlings,  and 
lack  artistic  finish,  yet  we  find  in  them  the  same  qualities 
which  are  so  essentially  characteristic  of  "  Uncle  Tom  ; " 
an  acute  perception  of  the  peculiar  and  national,  an  over- 
flowing vein  of  humor,  and  a  deeply  religious  mind. 

"Washington  Irving,  Caroline  Kirkland,  Catharine  Sedg- 
wick,  Fenimore  Cooper,  and  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  have 
given  us  masterly  sketches  of  America  and  of  her  peo- 
ple, but  none  more  striking  sketches  of  character,  none 
more  American,  than  those  of  the  authoress  of  the  "  May- 
flower" and  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 

THE  CHILD'S  PRAYER. 

"  IN  my  childhood,"  relates  the  great  and  brave  Captain 

G ,  "  I  was  exceedingly  strictly  educated.  Every  fault 

even  the  most  trifling,  was  most  severely  punished  by 
my  mother,  —  a  woman  strong  both  in  body  and  mind. 
This  severity  filled  me  with  great  dread  and  terror,  which 
easily  might  have  led  me  to  falsehood  and  hypocrisy,  if 
these  sins  had  not  been  even  more  severely  punished  than 
all  others.  Meantime  I  was  often  very  unhappy.  In  my 
extremity  I  had  recourse  to  prayer,  prayer  to  the  invisible 
Father,  whom  I  knew  to  be  watching  over  me  and  over  all. 
A  flat  stone  behind  one  of  the  hedges  in  our  garden  was 
my  oratory.  Often  have  I  been  lying  there  on  my  knees  — 
praying  and  weeping. 

"  One  day  I  had  undertaken  the  praiseworthy  labor  of 
weeding  the  hot-beds  in  our  garden.  In  doing  this,  I 
worked  especially  very  hard  at  a  large  plant  with  such 


SKETCHES.  373 

deep  and  strong  roots,  that,  notwithstanding  all  my  en- 
deavors, I  could  not  tear  up  the  root  entirely.  One  piece 
of  it,  deeply  imbedded  in  the  earth,  I  was  obliged  to  leave 
behind.  Delighted  with  my  work,  I  went  to  the  gardener, 
saying  to  him,  '  Well,  now  I  think  I  have  very  nearly 
pulled  up  all  the  weeds  from  the  hot-beds.  There  was 
only  one  large  plant,  which  I  could  not  quite  tear  up,  but' — 

" '  What  in  the  name  of  goodness  have  you  been  doing  ? ' 
exclaimed  the  gardener  in  evident  consternation ;  '  I  hope 
you  have  not  torn  up  Mistress's  chervil  ? ' 

"  He  ran  to  the  garden-seat ;  I  followed  him,  trembling. 
Alas  !  it  was  indeed  so ;  the  only  chervil-plant  in  the  gar- 
den, my  mother's  favorite  herb  for  cabbage-soup,  I  had  in 
the  sweat  of  my  brow  labored  to  exterminate.  Oh,  how  I 
prayed  and  entreated  the  gardener  not  to  mention  my 
misdeed.  He  promised  not  to  do  so,  but  only  conditionally. 
As  long  as  nobody  asked  him,  he  would  be  silent ;  but  if 
his  mistress  discovered  the  mischief  and  wanted  to  know 
the  cause  of  it,  he  considered  it  his  duty  to  tell  her. 

"  From  this  moment  I  listened  every  day  with  indescrib- 
able anxiety,  and  especially  every  Sunday,  to  the  orders 
which  were  issued  to  the  cook  about  dinner,  trembling  from 
fear  that  I  should  hear  the  dreadful  word,  '  cabbage- 
soup.'  For  three  weeks  it  was  never  once  mentioned,  and 
my  anxiety  had  gradually  become  less  intense,  when  one 
Sunday  morning  I  heard  my  mother  saying  to  the  cook : 
;  I  suppose  we  must  soon  have  cabbage-soup  again ;  I  was 
thinking  of  having  it  to-day.  The  chervil  ought  by  this 
time  to  be  large  enough.' 

"  More  I  could  not  hear.  Half  frantic  with  terror,  I  ran 
down  into  the  garden  ;  I  was  almost  in  despair.  Again  I 
had  recourse  to  my  oratory,  and  there  I  sent  up  as  fer- 
vent prayers  for  delivery  out  of  my  misery,  as  ever  passed 
child's  lips.  Having  prayed  long,  I  rose,  saying  in  a 
gloomy  frame  of  mind  :  '  I  shall  now  see  whether  there  is 
any  efficacy  in  prayer,  and  whether  it  can  do  any  thing  to 


374  SKETCHES. 

help  us.'  And  with  quick  steps  I  hastened  to  the  fatal 
hot-bed,  which  during  all  the  time  I  had  never  thought  of 
visiting.  I  approached  it ;  with  a  heart  beating  almost  to 
bursting,  I  threw  at  it  a  terrified,  searching  glance,  and  be- 
hold !  a  luxuriant  chervil-plant  stood  there  verdant,  a  foot 
high,  on  the  same  spot  where  the  former  one  had  stood. 
My  surprise  and  my  joy  cannot  be  described.  It  was  the 
root  which  had  been  left  behind,  which  had  shot  up.  The 
matter  could  easily  be  accounted  for,  but  upon  me  it  made 
an  impression  never  to  be  effaced.  And  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult for  rne  afterwards  to  follow  the  advice  which  my 
father  gave  me  many  years  later,  when  I  left  my  parental 
home  to  enter  the  great  world  as  a  military  officer. 
'  Above  all,'  said  he,  '  do  not  forget  prayer ;  let  it  be  the 
beginning  and  the  close  of  your  day ;  for  however  our  fate 
may  vary,  to  that  we  always  return  ! ' ' 

MAY  THOUGHTS. 

GENTLE  breezes,  pearly  dew-drops,  warm  sun-rays,  spring, 
spring  life,  blessed,  blessing  all,  welcome  to  all !  How  the 
earth  quickens ;  how  it  stirs  in  the  seed,  in  the  bud  ;  how 
it  sings  in  the  air,  in  the  waters !  Glorious  life,  giver  of 
joy  and  of  beauty,  receive  our  thanks  for  having  returned ; 
for  again  awakening  earth  with  kisses  and  warmth ;  for 
again  awakening  hopeful  feelings  and  thoughts  in  the  souls 
of  men  !  Over  them  also  snow  was  lying  —  winter's  sleep 
and  heaviness ;  but  they  feel  thy  spirit,  and  they  breathe 
again,  and  send  forth  into  life  an  "  Ah !  "  of  longing  and  of 
hope. 

Spring,  which  so  often  I  have  seen  come  and  depart, 
bloom  into  beauty  and  —  die  away  on  a  bed  of  withered 
leaves ;  enchanting,  but  ephemeral  season,  why  do  I  now 
greet  thee  with  so  much  joy  ?  Is  it  for  the  sake  of  thy 
verdant  fields,  thy  tender  foliage,  thy  flowers,  thy  butter- 
flies? They  must  all  soon  perish.  Is  it  for  the  general 
joy  which  thou  callest  forth  amongst  all  people,  my  brothers 


SKETCHES.  375 

and  sisters  ?  Oh,  yes !  But  with  thee  this  joy  must  also 
die  away. 

Delicious  spring-time  !  no,  it  is  not  at  thee  that  I  rejoice 
so  much,  but  at  the  life  of  which  thou  art  the  symbol, 
whose  spirit  thou  bearest ;  at  a  spring  which  I  feel  is  ap- 
proaching ;  a  spring  which  does  not  wane  ;  a  life  which  does 
not  die,  and  which,  like  thine,  imparts  its  all  to  all. 

It  is  the  spring  of  community,  of  universality ;  it  is  all 
mankind's  participation  in  the  communion  of  God's  good 
gifts. 

That  spring  is  spiritual  life  ;  that  life  is  eternal. 

It  descended  from  heaven  to  exalt  and  to  bless  earth. 
During  eighteen  centuries  it  has  breathed  upon  genera 
tions,  melted  icebergs,  burst  fetters,  cleansed,  purified  the 
air,  and  penetrated  in  innumerable  individual  hearts.  Now 
it  penetrates  public  life,  Society,  and  also  its  movement 
has  become  a  downward  one,  in  order  to  elevate. 

Associations  are  formed  for  the  propagation  of  God's 
kingdom  upon  earth  in  goodness,  in  wisdom,  in  beauty. 
Weak  men  join  their  hands  in  long  chains,  which  gives 
them  power ;  and  the  electric  current  of  God's  love  runs 
more  rapidly  along  them  all. 

And  the  neglected  children  are  adopted,  educated ;  the 
ignorant  are  taught ;  the  erring  improved,  and  the  condition 
of  the  poor  is  raised  nearer  to  that  of  the  rich. 

Science  steps  forth  from  its  study,  and  in  bright  beams 
gives  to  the  people  the  light  which  it  has  discovered  —  the 
truth  which  it  has  gained  during  solitary  labor  and  watch- 
ing. And  man  learns  better  to  conceive  the  God  in  whom 

O 

he  has  believed;  learns  better  to  understand  himself,  to 
know  the  world  in  which  he  lives,  the  stars  which  shine 
above  his  head,  the  flowers  which  grow  at  his  feet.  Thus 
he  wanders  more  securely  and  more  happy  upon  earth. 
More  securely,  but  also  more  humbly,  more  peacefully,  and 
—  "  Blessed  are  the  peaceful ! " 

The  social  system  becomes  a  general  and  sacred  system, 


376  SKETCHES. 

and  social  life  expands  to  receive  more  and  more  citizens, 
participators  of  the  same  noble  duties  and  rights. 

Art  descends  from  sun-lit  heights  to  throw  —  like  the 
sun  itself —  its  light  into  obscure,  hidden  valleys  ;  into  the 
cottages  of  the  poor  —  life-giving,  cheering.  Beautiful 
pictures  adorn  the  lowly  cot.  Poetry  and  song  fall  like 
fertilizing  dew  out  of  warm  spring  clouds  upon  the  soil  of 
the  mind,  quickening  the  noble,  slumbering  seed. 

And  upon  earth  breathes  —  although  in  various  tints 
and  degrees  —  o'ne  heart,  one  reason,  one  sense  of  beauty ; 
and  from  earth  one  common,  bright,  radiant  eye  is  raised 
towards  heaven. 

Spring  of  the  human  race !  Day  of  participation  for 
all !  Alas !  it  is  yet  only  approaching.  It  is  obscured  by 
the  dark  shadows,  the  heavy  crust  of  ice  which  still  rests 
upon  earth.  But  the  tints  of  its  dawn  are  visible  in  the 
sky ;  its  spirit  breathes  through  space.  It  is  coming,  it  is 
coming,  God's  "  Let  there  be  light ! "  His  first  com- 
mandment to  the  world  has  been  given  to  us  to  repeat,  to 
realize  until  the  last  day  of  time.  May  herein  every  one 
of  us  be  a  spark,  a  ray ! 

Go  then,  when  thy  time  is  up,  beautiful,  earthly  spring ! 
Thy  farewell,  thy  withered  flowers,  thy  death,  shall  not  dis- 
courage us.  The  spring  life  which  knows  of  no  death,  the 
bloom  which  does  not  decay,  is  approaching.  In  it  we 
shall  unite  ;  in  it  we  shall  labor  as  thou  laborest  for  all, 
every  one  according  to  his  individual  powers  and  in  his 
place,  if  even  only  as  a  breath  of  air,  as  a  drop  of  rain,  aye, 
even  if  only,  as  now  here,  by  —  a  drop  of  ink ! 

THE  GRATEFUL  LITTLE  FLOWER. 

THE  closed  bud  of  a  tiny  flower  was  shooting  forth  un- 
noticed amongst  the  grass,  while  the  vapors  of  a  May 
morning  were  sweeping,  like  dreams  before  the  soul  of  a 
slumberer,  over  earth,  yet  sunk  in  sleep.  Still  every  thing 
was  dusky,  but  in  the  bosom  of  the  tiny  flower  a  dim 


SKETCHES.  377 

dream  was  stirring,  a  presentiment  of  light,  of  joy,  of 
something  that  was  to  develop  and  beautify  its  little  life. 
Thus  dreams  the  child  of  the  sun  which  shall  rise  over  its 
noonday.  Thus  man  divines,  through  life's  long  dawn,  the 
new  light,  which,  at  the  command  of  a  new  "  Let  there  be 
light,"  shall  beam  forth  and  annihilate  every  particle  of  the 
dust  of  ancient  chaos.  Dreams  sometimes  become  truth. 
How  beautiful  to  awake  from  a  pleasant  dream  to  the 
joys  of  which  it  has  whispered  to  us.  Such  was  the  fate 
of  the  tiny  flower. 

The  sun  threw  a  ray  upon  the  lonely  one.  Delighted,  it 
felt  light  and  warmth  develop  and  beautify  its  life.  The 
wandering  wayfarer  cast  his  eye  upon  it,  saying,  "  See  how 
beautifully  the  sun  lights  up  the  little  flower !  "  Deeply  the 
flower  felt  the  beneficence  of  the  king  of  the  firmament.  It 
could  acknowledge  it  only  by  trying  to  preserve  unspotted 
its  inner  part,  which  light  had  deigned  to  look  upon,  and  it 
followed,  with  an  eye  never  turned  away  and  with  joyous 
and  humble  adoration,  the  course  of  the  glorious  one  as 
he  moved  along  his  path  in  the  heavens.  Occasionally  it 
whispers  to  a  passing  breath  of  air,  hoping  that  it  will 
carry  with  it  and  carry  to  him  its  sigh :  "  Oh,  if  the  sun 
could  but  know  how  grateful  the  little  flower  feels  ! " 

THE  UGLY  HAND  AND  THE  BEAUTIFUL  HAND. 
A  TRUE  STORY. 

"  Now  you  shall  hear,"  said  Grandmother  one  day  to 
Peter  and  Lotta,  who  were  seated  on  the  floor  before  the 
stove,  in  the  light  of  the  fire,  looking  with  curious  eyes  at 
the  old  woman,  who  sat  herself  down  opposite  to  them  in 
the  shade.  Mother  was  baking  the  pease-flour  pancake  in 
the  hearth  fire  ;  father  was  sitting  at  his  joiner's  bench,  but 
they  all  listened  attentively  to  Granny  when  she  began. 

"  Now  you  shall  hear :  listen  attentively !  There  was, 
once  upon  a  time,  a  young  peasant  lad,  who  married  a 
young  peasant  lass ;  and  her  name  was  Gertrud  and  his 


378  SKETCHES. 

name  was  Sven.  Oh,  what  a  grand  wedding  that  was  !  She 
was  dressed  at  the  parsonage,  and  she  looked  so  splendid, 
oh,  so  splendid,  that  all  the  people  crowded  round  to  get  a 
look  at  her.  And  she  was  so  fine  and  so  grand,  where  she 
was  riding  on  horseback,  with  a  large  nosegay  stuck  in  her 
stomacher,  and  with  fiddlers  riding  before  her.  And  so 
they  went  to  church,  and  were  married.  And  the  church 
was  cram  full  of  people  to  look  at  her.  And  so  they  went 
home  and  had  a  grand  feast.  And  while  all  the  dishes 
were  brought  in,  the  fiddlers  scraped  away,  and  then  they 
ate  and  they  drank,  and  they  danced  nearly  all  night. 
That  was  the  wedding.  Then  the  newly  married  couple 
went  to  their  own  cottage  ;  for  they  had  their  own  cottage 
with  two  rooms  in  it,  and  before  it  stood  a  mountain-ash, 
in  which  the  birds  sang ;  and  a  farm-yard  they  had,  too, 
with  a  cow,  and  sheep,  and  pigs ;  and  furniture  they  had, 
and  meat  and  drink  as  much  as  they  wanted.  All  this 
they  had  got  from  their  parents.  And  they  were  very 
happy,  and  said :  '  Now  we  shall  be  merry  and  enjoy  our 
life  thoroughly.'  And  so  they  began  eating  and  drinking 
and  sleeping,  and  they  rose  late  in  the  day,  and  slept  also 
during  day-time.  But  for  all  that  they  were  not  happier, 
but  only  more  sleepy,  and  yawned  all  day  long,  One  even- 
ing, just  as  they  were  going  to  have  their  supper,  they  saw 
coming  into  the  cottage  —  but  whether  it  was  through  the 
door  or  through  the  window,  they  could  not  tell  —  a  large, 
ugly,  black  hand  with  long  fingers :  look  you,  children,  in 
this  way  it  came,  so  slowly,  stretching  towards  the  table, 
seized  the  basin  with  the  porridge,  and  carried  it  away  right 
before  their  noses,  which  grew  so  long  —  so  long,  that  they 
would  have  knocked  against  each  other,  if  both  Sven  and 
Gertrud  had  not  tumbled  backward  from  sheer  fright,  when 
the  large  ugly  hand  came  and  took  away  their  supper  and 
disappeared  with  it,  they  could  not  guess  how.  '  But,'  said 
they,  '  we  won't  mind  it,  but  we  shall  go  to  bed,  and  it  will 
be  all  right  to-morrow ; '  and  they  went  to  bed,  but  they 


SKETCHES.  379 

did  not  sleep,  because  the  horn-owl  sat  in  the  mountain- 
ash,  crying  all  night, '  Uh,  hu,  hu  ! '  and  they  fancied  that  the 
ugly  hand  was  moving  about  in  the  kitchen,  but  it  was  so 
dark  they  could  not  see.  At  last  they  fell  asleep,  and  when 
they  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight,  and  then  the  gudeman 
said :  '  Get  up  now,  gudewife,  and  light  the  fire  and  make 
some  coffee.'  And  she  went  and  lit  the  fire,  but  just  as 
she  was  going  to  take  hold  of  the  coffee-pot,  what  do  you 
think  she  saw  ?  Why,  the  large,  ugly  hand  ;  it  caught 
hold  of  the  handle  of  the  coffee-pot  and  was  off  with  it  in 
a  trice,  as  if  it  had  flown  through  the  wall.  Then  the 
gudeman  flew  in  a  rage,  clenched  his  fist,  and  said :  '  Well, 
come  once  more  if  you  dare,  you  great  ugly  brute,  and  I  '11 
squeeze  you  so  that  you  shan't  forget  it  in  a  hurry :  and 
now  I  '11  go  to  the  bailiff.'  And  he  got  out  of  bed  and 
dressed,  and  wanted  to  put  on  his  holiday  coat ;  but  just 
as  he  was  going  to  take  it  down  from  the  peg,  he  felt  some- 
thing pulling  at  it  that  was  stronger  than  he  was  himself,  and 
when  he  turned  round,  lo !  there  was  the  large  ugly  hand, 
grasping  his  coat  and  flying  off  with  it  before  he  had  time 
to  understand  how  it  was  done.  And  thus  it  went  on  every 
day.  Every  day  came  the  ugly  hand  into  his  cottage,  and 
took  away  something  or  other,  either  victuals,  or  clothes,  or 
household  furniture.  And  then  husband  and  wife  got  very 
frightened,  and  they  asked  each  other :  '  How  will  this 
end?'  One  day  they  heard  the  cow  lowing,  and  they  saw 
the  ugly  hand  dragging  her  along  by  the  horns  into  the 
forest.  And  the  poor  cow  was  so  lean,  and  looked  back 
imploringly  to  the  young  wife,  and  then  disappeared  in  the 
forest.  Then  the  wife  began  to  weep  so  bitterly;  but 
the  husband  said  he  did  not  like  to  see  all  this  misery, 
and  so  he  emptied  the  brandy  bottle  and  fell  asleep,  and 
slept  as  heavily  as  if  he  was  dead ;  and  the  wife  did  nothing 
but  cry,  and  did  not  know  what  to  do.  '  Now  I  have  not 
got  a  single  drop  of  milk  to  give  to  my  husband ;  what 
shall  I  give  him  to  eat  ? '  And  she  thought  more  of  her 


380  SKETCHES. 

husband  than  of  herself,  for  she  was,  after  all,  a  good  soul, 
While  she  was  crying  and  staring  up  at  the  sky  and  pray- 
ing to  God  for  help,  she  thought  she  heard  a  bird  in  the 
tree  sing :  — 

"  '  Industry  wins  bread, 
Stands  us  in  good  stead; 
If  the  handsome  hand  is  busy, 
Sure  the  ugly  one 's  away.' 

"  And  when  she  heard  this,  the  scales  fell  from  her  eyes 
and  her  heart  became  light.  She  dried  her  tears,  took  her 
spinning-wheel  out  of  the  corner,  where  it  had  stood  forgot- 
ten with  the  flax  upon  it  for  many  weeks,  and  she  began 
spinning :  whirr,  whirr,  whirr-irr-rr.  She  thought  it  sounded 
so  nice  —  she  had  almost  forgotten  the  sound.  '  What  is 
that  strange  music  ? '  asked  her  husband,  when  he  awoke. 
And  the  wife  told  him  how  she  had  felt,  and  what  the  bird 
had  been  singing  in  the  tree,  and  how  she  had  thought 
that  if  they  were  to  begin  to  work,  things  might  perhaps 
turn  out  better  for  them.  And  he  scratched  his  ear  and 
said  that  '  There  might  be  something  in  that.'  And  then 
they  kissed  each  other,  and  promised  one  another  to  begin 
living  in  a  different  way.  And  all  day  long  they  worked 
away,  and  that  clay  the  ugly  hand  was  not  seen  to  take  any 
thing  away  from  them.  But  it  is  true  there  was  not  much 
to  take  now,  for  the  ugly  hand  had  already  carried  off  so 
much.  They  had  only  one  kettle  left,  and  a  few  potatoes 
in  a  basket,  but  no  bread.  When  therefore  the  young  wife 
was  boiling  the  potatoes  in  the  kettle  at  night,  she  said: 
'  Think  if  the  ugly  hand  should  come  now  and  take  away 
the  kettle  also ! '  And  she  was  in  a  great  fright.  But  no, 
no  ugly  hand  did  she  see  ;  and  when  the  potatoes  were  ready 
and  she  was  going  to  put  them  on  the  table,  she  saw  a 
pretty  little  white  hand,  placing  a  loaf  of  bread  upon  her 
plate  and  one  upon  Sven's  plate.  And  the  bird  in  the  tree 

sang :  — 

"  '  Industry  wins  bread, 
Stands  us  in  good  stead ; 


SKETCHES.  381 

If  the  handsome  hand  is  busy, 
Sure  the  ugly  one  's  away.' 

"  She  was  so  glad,  oh,  so  glad,  that  she  had  almost  let  the 
potatoes  drop  on  the  floor,  for  she  was  so  anxious  to  run 
and  kiss  the  blessed  little  white  hand ;  but  it  was  gone, 
and  at  that  instant  her  husband  came  home  from  his  work, 
carrying  a  large  bundle  of  wood,  and  the  wife  told  him  with 
joyful  tears  what  she  had  seen.  And  he  was  also  heartily 
glad,  and  they  sat  down  to  eat.  And  for  many,  many  a  day, 
their  meal  had  not  tasted  so  well.  They  were  happier  than 
they  had  been  for  a  long  time,  and  they  thanked  God. 
And  now  they  began  another  life.  Every  morning  they 
got  up  at  daybreak  and  worked  all  day  long,  that  often, 
when  night  came,  they  were  so  tired,  oh,  so  tired  ;  but  then 
they  had  encouragement,  for  every  day  they  saw  the  white 
hand  come  in,  bringing  back  some  of  the  things  which  the 
ugly  hand  had  dragged  away ;  yes,  and  one  day  it  came 
and  put  the  coffee-kettle  on  the  fire,  and  hung  up  Sven's 
holiday  coat  on  the  peg ;  but  the  funniest  thing  was  when 
they  heard  one  evening  a  lowing  outside  the  window.  '  My 
cow,  my  cow,  my  blessed  "  May-rose  !  " '  cried  Gertrud,  and 
ran  out,  and  behold,  it  was  'May-rose'  that  had  come 
back,  led  by  the  horns  by  the  white  hand,  and  she  looked 
at  Gertrud  with  her  large,  friendly  eyes,  and  lowed  so  mer- 
rily. Gertrud  could  not  sleep  that  night,  for  she  longed  so 
to  get  up  in  the  morning  to  give  her  dear  '  May-rose  '  her 
fodder,  and  caress  and  milk  her. 

"  And  now  Gertrud  was  much  more  industrious  than  any 
wife  in  the  whole  neighborhood,  and  she  had  woven  such 
beautiful  stuffs  out  of  her  yarn,  and  she  sold  them  to  the 
people  all  round.  And  the  husband  wrought  weaving- 
looms  during  the  winter  for  those  who  wanted  to  weave, 
and  Gertrud  taught  them  how  to  do  it.  When  now  Sven 
and  Gertrud  had  become  rich,  they  took  his  old  mother 
into  their  house,  and  made  her  old  age  happy,  for  which 
God  blessed  them.  And  He  did  so  indeed,  for  lie  gave 


382  SKETCHES. 

them  two  nice  little  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  and  they 
liked  much  to  hear  stories  told  to  them,  just  as  you  do,  chil- 
dren. 

"  And  then  there  was  a  great  fuss  and  a  loud  cry  all  round 
the  neighborhood  :  '  The  King  is  coming  !  the  King  is  com- 
ing ! '  And,  sure  enough,  it  was  the  King  himself,  who  sat 
in  a  large,  large  carriage  beside  his  Queen.  And  every  body 
ran  to  see  the  King  and  the  Queen,  for  he  was  a  very  good 
King  and  she  was  a  very  good  Queen,  and  they  thought 
only  of  how  they  could  do  justice  to  all,  and  make  the  people 
happy.  And  when  the  large  carriage  stopped  at  the  inn, 
there  were  so  many  people  that  it  looked  like  an  ant-hill. 
And  the  King  and  the  Queen  went  about  amongst  the  people, 
and  spoke  in  such  a  friendly  way  with  them  all.  And  the 
King  was  such  a  fine  gentleman,  with  dark  hair  and  brown 
eyes,  which  shone  like  the  sun ;  and  the  Queen  was  a  tall, 
beautiful  lady,  and  looked  as  good  as  an  angel  in  heaven. 
And  they  saw  that  all  the  women  and  girls  had  such  nice 
clothes  of  homespun  stuff,  and  they  asked,  '  Who  is  it  that 
weaves  such  stuff  here  in  the  neighborhood  ? '  And  the 
people  answered  that  '  Gertrud  does,  Sven's  wife.'  Then 
Gertrud  was  told  to  come  before  the  King  and  Queen  with 
her  husband,  and  they  praised  them,  and  said  that  they 
would  buy  some  of  their  stuffs.  And  so  they  ordered  fifty 
ells  of  cloth,  and  six  dozen  handkerchiefs  with  red  and  blue 
checks  for  the  little  princess.  And  the  King  made  Gertrud 
and  her  husband  a  present  of  a  silver  medal  with  his  por- 
trait on  it,  as  a  remembrance  of  him,  and  he  said,  '  I  wish 
you  every  happiness,  my  children.' 

"  And  it  became  known  through  all  the  neighborhood 
how  that  the  King  had  spoken  with  Sven  and  Gertrud,  and 
every  Sunday  they  had  to  take  out  the  silver  medal,  for  all 
wanted  to  see  the  King's  portrait. 

"  This  was  a  great  delight  to  Sven  and  Gertrud,  as  you 
may  believe,  and  they  became  still  more  industrious,  and 
more  and  more  rich ;  and  they  joyfully  helped  poor  people 


SKETCHES.  383 

out  of  what  they  had  earned,  and  told  them  their  own  story, 
and  all  about  the  naughty  hand  and  the  kind  hand.  But 
never  again  did  they  see  the  naughty  hand  in  their  cot- 
tage. 

"  For  look  you,  dear  children,  the  naughty,  ugly  hand,  that 
was  Want,  which  drags  every  thing  out  of  the  house,  when 
laziness,  and  extravagance,  and  carelessness  enter  into  it ; 
and  the  kind,  beautiful  hand  —  do  you  know  who  that  was  ? 
Well,  that  was  Industry,  which  brings  every  thing  into  the 
house,  and  makes  comfort  and  independence  dwell  therein. 
And  the  King,  that  was  our  own  King  Oscar,  God  bless 
him !  And  the  Queen  was  our  Queen  Josephine,  and  they 
like  to  see  their  people  happy  and  industrious,  and  to  re- 
ward them  that  are  honest.  So  you  see  that  this  whole 
story  is  nothing  but  the  real  truth.  And  now  my  tale  is 
finished,  and  just  in  good  time,  for  now  mother  has  just 
baked  the  last  pancake  and  we  are  going  to  have  our 
supper." 

Peter  and  Lotta  jumped  up  from  the  floor ;  Granny  also 
got  up  from  her  chair,  and  all  sat  down  round  the  table 
where  the  pancakes  were  smoking.  And  the  husband  and 
the  wife  winked  at  each  other  and  smiled,  as  if  they  meant 
to  say  :  "  We  know  that  story,  we  do  ! " 

And  when  they  had  sat  down  to  the  table  and  were  all 
so  pleased,  they  heard  the  swallows  outside  the  window 
chirping  to  their  young  ones :  "  Be  busy,  be  busy,  be 
busy ! " 

"  Hark  ! "  said  Lotta,  "  what  the  swallows  are  teaching 
their  young  ones.  That  they  have  taught  themselves." 
"  Lotta  is  stupid,"  Peter  said  ;  "  God  has  taught  it  them." 

CHRISTMAS  EVE  AND   CHRISTMAS   MATINS. 

I  SHALL  now  relate  to  you,  my  dear  little  children  in 

Stockholm,  how  Christmas  is  celebrated  in  the  country,  for 

you  probably  do  not  know  this  ;  but  I  know  it,  for  I  have 

often  taken  part  in  it  myself,  and  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes, 


384  SKETCHES. 

and  have  enjoyed  it  vastly ;  and  I  know  that  it  will  interest 
you  to  hear  all  about  it. 

But  the  mother  and  children  of  whom  I  am  about  to  tell 
you,  I  have  not  known  myself;  a  good  friend  of  mine  has 
told  me  all  that  I  am  now  going  to  relate  to  you. 

Well,  you  see,  children,  there  was  a  cottage  lying  on  the 
margin  of  a  dark-green  pine  forest,  and  upon  it  and  round 
about  it  the  snow  fell  in  large  flakes,  one  dark  winter's 
night.  But  the  interior  of  the  cottage  was  light,  for  the 
fire  was  blazing  merrily  upon  the  hearth,  and  threw  its 
friendly  glare  upon  the  pine-tree  which  stretched  its  heavy 
snow-laden  branches  against  the  outer  wall  of  the  cottage, 
and  the  fire  also  threw  its  light  into  the  forest  where  the 
large  owl  sat  screeching,  "  Un,  hu,  hu,  hu !  "  Merrily  the 
smoke  was  curling  up  through  the  chimney,  and  the  sparks 
danced  about  amongst  the  snow-flakes  so  that  these  became 
quite  giddy,  and  tumbled  down  through  the  chimney  into 
the  porridge-pan,  that  is  to  say,  they  would  have  tumbled 
into  it,  if  they  had  not  melted  on  their  way  through  the 
smoke. 

It  was  the  Christinas  porridge  which  sputtered  and  bub- 
bled on  the  hearth,  besides  other  Yule  fare  ;  for  it  was  now 
Christmas  Eve,  and  according  to  the  custom  in  the  rural 
districts  in  Sweden,  the  food  for  the  whole  Christmas  holi- 
days was  to  be  prepared,  so  that  it  only  required  to  be 
warmed  up  for  the  meals  during  those  days. 

It  was  not,  you  may  believe,  rich  man's  fare  which  was 
being  cooked  in  the  cottage.  For  in  it  there  lived  only  a 
cottar's  wife  —  and  she  was  a  widow  with  three  children. 
But  she  was  an  industrious  and  thoughtful  woman,  and  a 
good  mother,  and  had  now,  in  honor  of  Yule  time,  prepared 
the  very  best;  and  that  was  not  to  be  despised.  Three 
pounds  of  meat  she  had  bought,  and  it  was  now  boiling 
together  with  parsly-roots  and  celery,  and  promised  to 
make  a  savory  soup,  with  cabbage,  on  Christinas  Day.  For 
in  the  country  people  must  have  cabbage-soup  on  that  day. 


SKETCHES.  385 

There  was  also  "  lutfisk,"  quite  white  and  soft  in  a  pan,  and 
potatoes,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

The  Christmas  cake  was  already  placed  upon  the  table^ 
and  there  also  stood  the  "  Yule-Kuse"  with  long  horns. 

O 

And  there  he  was  to  stand  during  all  the  holidays,  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  Christmas  fare.  Have  you  heard,  children, 
what  a  "  Yule-Kuse  "  is,  and  why  he  stands  upon  the  Christ- 
mas tables  in  the  country  ?  I  will  tell  you. 

The  "  Yule-Kuse "  is  a  large  lump  of  dough,  which  is 
kneaded  and  made  into  the  shape  of  a  large  goat,  with  long 
horns.  When  he  has  stood  upon  the  Christmas  table  all 
the  holidays,  he  is  put  into  a  wooden  chest,  where  he  rests  in 
peace  until  spring  comes,  and  the  fields  are  to  be  ploughed. 
Then  the  "  Yule-Kuse  "  comes  forth  again  out  of  the  chest, 
is  chopped  in  pieces,  and  given  to  the  horses  and  oxen  that 
have  to  labor  in  the  fields,  and  which  through  the  "  Yule- 
Kuse  "  become  doubly  as  strong  as  before. 

And  if  the  fields  are  well  ploughed,  the  grain  will  grow 
beautifully,  and  a  vast  number  of  sheaves  will  be  brought 
into  the  barns,  and  a  great  deal  of  grist  to  the  mills,  and 
much  bread  into  the  house,  and  all  this  the  "  Yule-Kuse  " 
does,  th.it  wonderful  animal. 

Two  little  children,  1'ehr  and  Maja,  were  running  round 
the  Christmas  table,  and  could  scarcely  conceal  their  delight 
at  the  "  Yule-Kuse,"  and  the  cakes,  and  at  the  Yule  fare 
boiling  on  the  hearth,  smelling  so  nice  in  the  cottage,  and 
at  the  Christmas  Day  matins,  which  they  were  going  to 
attend  the  following  morning  with  their  mother.  Brother 
Anders  was  going  to  take  them  all  in  the  sledge  drawn  by 
old  Polle.  And  the  children  had  never  yet  been  to  the 
Christmas  matins,  and  did  not  quite  know  what  it  meant ; 
but  something  grand  and  beautiful  it  was  to  be,  and  that 
they  had  heard  and  could  well  believe. 

Brother  Anders  was  still  standing  upon  the  hillock  be- 
hind the  cottage,  cutting  wood,  that  there  might  be  plenty 
of  fuel  for  the  whole  week,  from  Christmas  Eve  until 
25 


386  SKETCHES. 

New  Year's  Day  ;  but  if  any  body  had  seen  him  where  he 
stood,  with  gloomy  looks  and  his  hair  hanging  down  over 
his  forehead,  he  would  have  seen  that  Anders  did  not 
think  that  Christmas  was  a  merry  time,  and  that  he  was 
not  much  satisfied  with  the  world. 

The  mother  was  busy  at  the  hearth.  But  why  does  she 
always  stand  thus  turned  towards  the  fire,  as  if  anxious  to 
keep  her  face  away  from  the  merry  children  ?  The  flames 
might  tell  us,  if  they  could  speak,  for  they  see  that  her 
face  is  sorrowful,  and  that  now  and  then  tears  roll  down 
her  cheeks.  And  she  does  not  wish  the  children  to  see 
this ;  she  will  not  spoil  their  pleasure.  But  she  cannot 
help  it ;  she  must  this  evening  again  and  again  think  of 
her  husband,  who  died  only  three  months  ago,  and  how 
happy  she  was  with  him  last  Christmas  ;  how  good  he  was, 
how  honest,  how  industrious,  how  kind  and  loving  to  her  and 
the  children ;  how  they  two  together  had  labored  to  over- 
come many  cares,  and  how  their  circumstances  had  im- 
proved year  after  year,  so  that  they  began  to  look  forward 
to  the  future  with  pleasure.  She  thought  of  how  faithfully 
he  had  assisted  her  in  every  thing,  and  how  he  sometimes 
said:  "We  must  work  hard  for  some  time  yet,  my  little 
Margret,  but  then  you  will  see  that  all  will  be  well  for  us 
and  the  children  !  "  And  she  remembered  how,  when  he 
felt  that  he  was  dying,  he  had  comforted  her,  and  had  told 
her  that  "  it  was  to  be  so  :  that  if  one  of  them  was  to  be 
taken  away,  it  was  better  that  this  lot  fell  upon  the  husband 
than  upon  the  wife,  because  she  was  able  to  take  better 
care  of  the  children  than  he  could ! "  But  the  wife 
thought  this  a  heavy  burden  to  bear,  and  she  had  much 
anxiety  for  the  future.  For  she  felt  now  so  lonely  both  in 
her  heart  and  in  her  cottage  ;  and  the  eldest  son,  her  step- 
son Anders,  who  had  hitherto  been  out  at  service  in 
another  parish,  but  had  now  come  home  to  assist  his 
mother  in  her  little  farm  after  the  father's  death,  was  of  a 
sullen  temper,  and  was  evidently  unfriendly  and  bitterly 


SKETCHES.  387 

disposed  towards  his  step-mother,  which  she  had  hitherto  in 
vain  tried  to  overcome  by  kindness. 

Anders  was  in  the  house  like  a  dark  cloud ;  he  was  al- 
ways dissatisfied,  and  rude  in  his  language.  This  was  a 
great  trouble  to  the  mother.  And  especially  this  evening, 
when  she  had  determined,  for  the  sake  of  the  festival  and 
the  children,  to  get  rid  of  all  anxious  thoughts,  just  this 
evening  they  crowded  round  her  thickly,  thickly  as  the 
snow-flakes  upon  the  pine-tree,  and  whenever  she  tried  to 
shake  them  off,  look  —  they  were  there  again,  worse  than 
before,  and  seemed  almost  to  crush  her  down. 

But  the  children,  little  Pehr  and  Maja,  they  could  not 
think  of  any  thing  unpleasant,  not  they. 

"  Oh,  but  look  at  the  Kuse,  Maja !  see  how  he  stares  at 
you  with  his  large  black  eyes  !  take  care,  he  will  butt  at 
you  if  you  touch  him.  He  says  :  If  you  come  near  me,  I 
will  butt  you  with  my  long,  long  horns  !  " 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  that  he  will  butt  ?  Do  you  think 
that  he  really  lives  ?  Oh,  how  nice  the  soup  smells  !  Is 
it  not  soon  ready,  mother?  And  may  we  not  soon  go  to 
May-rose  and  Doll  and  let  them  look  at  the  star  and  taste 
of  Christmas  ?  " 

Yes,  all  right ;  the  soup  was  ready  and  lifted  from  the 
fire.  And  the  mother  lit  the  candle  in  the  lantern,  and 
round  the  candle  was  put  a  beautiful  star  made  of  yellow 
paper,  which  was  illuminated  by  the  candle,  and  which 
again  illuminated  the  candle.  And  the  children  got  each 
a  small  loaf  of  bread,  and  the  mother  filled  a  large  stone- 
jar  with  new  Christmas  ale,  and  so  they  went  off  to  the 
cow-house  to  let  the  cattle  know  that  it  was  Yule. 

For  it  is  the  custom  everywhere  in  the  country,  in 
Sweden,  to  let  the  cattle  also  have  the  benefit  of  Christ- 
mas, which  is  both  right  and  good.  For  every  creature 
upon  earth  ought  to  rejoice  at  the  birth  of  Him  who  gives 
new  life  to  the  world,  and  who  sent  out  His  Apostles,  say- 
ing to  them  :  "  Preach  the  gospel  to  all  creatures." 


388  SKETCHES. 

It  is  chiefly  the  domestic  animals  to  which,  according  to 
old  Swedish  custbm,  they  give  a  treat  at  Christmas.  But  in 
some  parts  of  Sweden,  and  in  the  country  throughout  the 
whole  of  Norway,  it  is  usual  to  place  outside  the  house  and 
barn  doors,  oat  and  barley  sheaves  on  the  top  of  high  poles, 
or  pine-tree  saplings,  so  that  the  little  birds  may  eat  their 
fill.  And  when  I  was  one  year  in  Norway,  I  had  two  such 
poles  before  my  window,  with  large  barley  sheaves  on  the 
top  of  them,  and  swarms  of  little  sparrows,  and  green 
finches  and  bull-finches  had  their  Yule  feast  in  them,  and 
seemed  incessantly  to  be  twittering  "  It 's  Christmas  !  it 's 
Christmas !  " 

There  was  so  much  rejoicing,  and  they  made  such  a 
noise,  that  you  could  scarcely  hear  any  thing  else.  But  to 
return  to  our  cottage  in  Sweden. 

May-rose  and  Doll  did  certainly  not  think  of  any  thing 
where  they  stood  in  their  cribs,  chewing  their  straw, 
when  the  door  of  the  cow-house  was  opened  and  a  light 
shone  into  their  eyes.  They  turned  their  heads  towards 
that  side,  looked  a  little  astonished,  lowed  and  snorted  a 
little  to  signify  that  they  knew  those  who  entered,  and  that 
they  were  welcome.  But  when  the  children  in  their  zeal 
ran  forward,  each  holding  out  their  cake,  screaming  in 
May-rose's  and  Doll's  ears  :  "  It 's  Christmas  now  !  "  they 
stepped  back  a  pace  or  two,  shook  their  heads  violently, 
and  stared  at  them  with  their  large  eyes  as  if  they  would 
have  said  :  "  Ah,  what  sort  of  a  thing  is  that  ?  " 

But  being  both  very  sensible  and  good  creatures  —  of 
brown  color,  with  white  spots  —  they  soon  recovered  from 
their  surprise,  put  out  their  tongues  for  the  bread,  smelt  at 
the  Christmas  ale,  had  both  a  good  drink  of  it,  and  seemed 
to  be  vastly  pleased.  And  when  mother  had  strewn  fresh 
straw  under  them,  and  filled  their  manger  with  the  best 
sweet  hay,  and  had  said  to  them,  as  she  went  away  :  "  God 
bless  you  now,  dearies  ;  now  you  have  got  your  Yule  fare  ! " 
then  they  seemed  to  understand  the  matter,  stared  at  the 


SKETCHES.  389 

candle  and  star,  which  the  children  tried  to  make  shine 
right  into  their  eyes,  and  with  a  large  tuft  of  hay  in 
their  mouths  they  laid  themselves  comfortably  down  to 
think  the  matter  over.  However,  they  said  nothing  but 
boo-o  ! 

Then  they  were  off  to  old  Polle,  to  let  him  also  have  a 
taste  of  Christmas  cake  and  Yule  ale,  and  let  him  also 
know  that  it  was  Christmas.  And  Polle  pricked  up  his 
ears,  lifted  up  his  head,  and  looked  as  if  he  would  have 
said  that  he  expected  these  news,  and  that  he  also  bade 
them  welcome.  Polle  was  an  old  stager,  and  had  during 
many  years  tasted  Christmas.  And  horses  have  a  won- 
derful good  memory. 

The  sheep  were  bleating  with  delight,  and  licked  the 
hands  which  gave  them  their  Christmas  treat.  And  the 
little  pigs  jumped  and  ran  about  as  if  they  had  been 
crazy. 

And  if  you  could  but  know,  my  dear  children,  how 
much  pleasure  we  can  have  from  the  domestic  animals  in 
the  country,  how  happy  one  can  live  in  the  cottage  and  in 
the  farm  where  one  is  daily  surrounded  by,  and  is,  as  it 
were,  on  friendly  terms  with  the  gentle,  tame  animals,  so 
useful  to  us,  I  believe  you  would  then  all  wish  to  live  in 
the  country. 

Puss  on  the  hearth  was  just  beginning  to  find  that  time 
was  getting  a  little  too  long,  and  that  it  was  rather  dry 
work  to  lick  her  paws,  when  the  mother  entered  the  cot- 
tage with  the  children.  Puss  now  got  a  whole  saucer  full 
of  thick  creamy  milk. 

The  chickens  were  very  unruly  this  evening,  and  would 
not  go  to  roost  upon  their  perches  in  the  hen-coop ;  they 
flew  up  and  down,  clacking  all  the  while,  and  had  a  great 
deal  to  say  which  nobody  could  understand.  But  now 
when  handfuls  of  golden  grain  rained  over  them,  and  the 
children  shouted  to  them,  "  Now  it 's  Yule  !  "  they  began 
clacking  and  flying  about  worse  than  ever,  making  a 


890  SKETCHES. 

dreadful  noise  ;  the  cock  crowed  as  if  it  had  been  morning, 
and  his  wife,  the  white  hen,  laid  an  egg. 

Anders  was  also  in  the  cottage  when  the  mother  came 
in  with  her  children.  He  was  a  tall  lad  of  about  seventeen, 
and  had  a  sullen  and  gloomy  appearance.  The  mother 
gave  him  an  anxious  look.  Ever  since  his  father  had 
married  a  second  time  he  had  borne  his  step-mother  a 
grudge,  and  would  not  remain  in  the  house  after  she  came 
into  it.  He  had,  therefore,  gone  into  the  service  of  a  peas- 
ant in  a  neighboring  parish,  who  certainly  was  a  well-to-do, 
but  not  a  good  man. 

Anders  now  sat  with  his  elbow  resting  upon  the  table  ; 
he  was  gazing  silently  at  the  fire,  and  seemed  neither  to 
notice  that  the  housewife  put  the  eatables  on  the  table  and 
made  every  thing  so  comfortable,  nor  little  Maja's  prattle, 
who  wanted  to  tell  him  about  all  the  animals,  and  how  they 
had  got  their  Christmas  supper. 

For  Maja  was  a  nice,  friendly  little  girl  who  loved 
every  body,  and  seemed  particularly  to  like  brother  Anders, 
although  he  rarely  was  friendly  to  her. 

When  they  now  were  all  seated  round  the  table,  and  the 
mother  had  poured  out  the  Yule  ale,  the  little  ones  peered 
at  each  other,  at  their  mother,  and  at  Anders,  winking  at 
one  another,  and  looking  so  sly,  as  if  they  would  have  said  : 
"  Now  it  comes  !  " 

And  now  the  mother  raised  her  glass,  and  the  children 
took  up  their  little  pewter  mugs,  and  all  three  said,  "  Here 
is  to  you,  Anders  !  " 

Anders  looked  up,  as  much  astonished  almost  as  May- 
rose,  when  they  shouted  to  her  that  it  was  Christmas.  But 
when  the  mother  added,  "  And  much  happiness  to  you,  my 
son,  for  on  this  night  you  were  born,"  Anders  said  in  a 
sulky  tone,  "  Well,  what  is  that  to  drink  to,  and  what  sort 
of  happiness  is  that  ?  It  would  be  much  better  not  to 
have  been  born." 

The  mother  answered  gravely :  "  Those  are  sinful  words, 


SKETCHES.  391 

my  son.  When  God  has  given  us  health  and  strength  to 
strive  and  work"  — 

"  Yes,  but  why  must  one  strive  and  work  ?  "  interrupted 
Anders  in  a  sullen  tone. 

"  My  dear  boy,  how  can  you  ask  so  ?  "  she  said  ;  "  one 
must  live,  I  should  think." 

"  And  why  should  one  live  ?  "  retorted  Anders. 

The  mother  was  silent,  for  she  could  not  immediately 
find  an  answer  to  that  question,  and  it  pained  her  that  the 
lad  so  often  used  such  dissatisfied  and  bitter  words. 
Anders  went  on  :  — 

"  When  one  has  neither  father  nor  mother,  nor  money, 
nor  any  thing  in  the  world  to  live  for,  it  would  be  just  as 
well  to  be  dead.  One  would  be  out  of  all  bother  then." 

"  Am  I  not  your  mother  ? "  said  the  widow,  while  the 
tears  rose  to  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  only  my  step-mother ! "  retorted  Anders 
harshly.  "  Had  you  been  my  mother,  you  would  have 
thought  more  of  me  than  you  have  done,  and  I  should  not 
then  have  had  to  go  in  this  old  coat  of  my  father's,  but  you 
would  have  got  me  a  new  one." 

"  That  I  would  have  done,  if  I  could  have  afforded  it," 
answered  the  widow,  blushing  from  indignation  at  the  un- 
just accusation.  "  But  you  know  that  I  was  obliged  to  sell 
your  father's  best  coat,  to  be  able  to  get  him  decently 
buried.  And  you  know  also  that  I  am  busy  spinning  wool 
for  a  new  coat  for  you." 

"  Aye,  but  when  will  it  be  ready  ?  "  said  Anders.  "  You 
might  have  sold  the  old  brute  of  a  horse,  Polle,  and  have 
got  money  for  him,  instead  of  selling  father's  best  coat 
But  you  are  proud,  and  want  to  keep  Polle  only  to  drive  to 
church  with  him,  although  he  is  of  no  use,  but  eats  up  the 
fodder  for  the  cows.  The  wisest  and  best  thing  would  be 
to  sell  him." 

"  My  son,"  said  the  mother,  "  Polle  is  old  and  has  served 
us  many  years,  and  therefore  I  am  unwilling  to  sell  him, 


392  SKETCHES. 

but  not  from  pride.  And  I  know  also  that  Polle  brings  us 
in  many  a  rix  dollar,  when  our  neighbors  hire  him  for 
their  journeys ;  but  if  it  is  so,  that  it  is  best  to  sell  him,  I 
shall  have  no  objection  to  it,  if  I  can  only  find  him  a  kind 
master.  But  it  will  be  painful  to  part  with  the  faithful 
animal,  and  then  I  shall  never  again  be  able  to  go  to 
church,  as  I  cannot  any  longer  walk  there,  ever  since  I 
have  got  the  pain  in  my  side !  But  —  it  cannot  be  helped  ! " 

"  A  gentle  word  turneth  away  wrath,"  says  the  Scripture, 
and  the  mother's  words  were  uttered  so  gently  and  with  so 
much  dignity,  that  Anders  could  not  say  any  thing  in  reply  ; 
but  he  felt  a  sting  of  conscience,  and  he  rose  hastily,  pushed 
aside  little  Maja  so  roughly  as  nearly  to  upset  her,  and 
went  out,  violently  banging  the  door  after  him. 

All  this  hurt  the  mother  very  deeply.  And  if  you  knew, 
my  dear  children,  what  pain  parents  suffer  when  a  child  is 
naughty  or  ungrateful,  and  what  a  bitter  root  grows  up 
from  malicious  and  hard  words,  you  would  then  certainly 
always  be  on  your  guard,  even  for  your  own  sake.  For, 
believe  me,  you  will  one  day  surely  have  it  back  again. 
And  the  child  who  causes  his  father  or  mother  a  sorrow, 
will  one  day  have  to  bear  sorrow  from  his  own  children, 
and  must  then  feel  how  it  tastes. 

Now,  the  mother  felt  within  her  that  she  had  a  motherly 
love  for  her  step-son,  and  that  she  did  not  deserve  his 
harshness. 

But  she  felt  also,  that  he  might  be  right  with  regard  to 
old  Polle,  and  that  it  would  be  most  prudent  to  get  rid  of 
him.  And  the  thought  that  she  could  not  any  longer  go  to 
church  —  a  distance  of  a  couple  of  miles  from  the  cottage 
—  was  very  painful  to  her. 

The  children  could  not  make  out  what  was  the  matter 
with  their  brother.  They  ate,  however,  and  drank  to 
their  heart's  content,  and  thought  that  nobody  could  be 
better  off  than  they  were,  and  that  it  was  very  pleasant  to 
live. 


SKETCHES.  393 

When  the  mother  saw  that  they  had  eaten  enough,  she 
proposed  that  they  should  put  aside  a  part  of  the  supper 
for  the  "flower-woman"  in  the  parish  poor-house.  The 
children  were  heartily  willing  to  do  this.  Bread  and  meat 
were  accordingly  tied  up  in  a  blue-checked  handkerchief, 
and  the  bundle  was  put  away  on  the  shelf  until  the  follow- 
ing morning.  They  would  take  it  with  them  when  they 
went  to  church  to  attend  the  matins,  and  they  got  permis- 
sion to  go  themselves  to  the  poor-house  and  give  it  to  the 
"  flower-woman." 

Then  the  children  went  to  lie  down  on  a  large  sheaf  of 

D 

yellow  straw,  which  they  had  dragged  into  the  cottage  for 
Christmas :  because  in  the  country  people  must  dance  and 
sleep  upon  straw  at  Christmas,  if  every  thing  is  to  be  done 
properly.  The  children  did  not  undress,  that  they  might 
the  sooner  be  ready  in  the  morning.  And  they  got  from 
their  mother  each  a  white  pocket  handkerchief  to  put  upon 
the  straw  under  their  head,  and  then  they  lay  down  and 
were  soon  fast  asleep,  side  by  side,  while  the  light  from  the 
fire-place  was  dancing  over  them  and  seemed  to  kiss  their 
cheeks. 

Anders  came  in  silent  and  sullen,  and  went  to  bed  with- 
out saying  good-night. 

Last  of  them  all  the  mother  went  to  bed,  after  having 
put  all  tilings  to  rights  in  the  cottage,  washed  plates  and 
dishes,  and  put  every  thing  in  its  proper  place,  and  after 
having,  thrown  more  wood  upon  the  fire,  for  it  is  the  custom 
in  the  country  that  the  fire  shall  burn  during  the  whole  of 
Christmas  night. 

As  she  was  now  lying  on  her  bed,  she  could  not  sleep, 
for  she  had  anxious  thoughts,  and  she  heard  that  Anders 
was  turning  and  tossing  about  in  his  bed,  as  if  uneasy 
thoughts  had  been  tormenting  him  also.  And  she  said  to 
herself:  "I  wonder  whether  I  ought  to  speak  to  him; 
whether  I  ought  to  tell  him  that  he  has  grieved  me  and 

O  o 

done  me  wrong;  that  I  bear  a  motherly  heart   to   him, 


394  SKETCHES. 

although  I  am  not  his  real  mother  ;  that  I  would  love  him 
if  he  only  would  let  me ;  but  —  I  have  told  him  this 
already  more  than  once.  What  shall  I  do  ?  It  is  Christ- 
mas Eve,  and  then  one  ought  not  to  part  in  unkindness  !  " 

In  a  low  voice  she  called  out :  "  Anders,  ara  you  awake  ?  " 
But  Anders  did  not  answer ;  he  was  perfectly  still  and 
silent.  And  so  she  thought :  "  He  has  fallen  asleep." 

And  she  remained,  therefore,  silent,  but  turned  her 
thoughts  to  God,  praying  that  he  might  change  the  boy's 
dissatisfied  and  bitter  mind.  And  so,  without  knowing  it, 
she  followed  the  advice  of  the  pious  Thomas  a  Kempis, 
when  he  says  :  — 

"  When  you  have  reproached  any  body  for  a  fault  once 
or  twice,  and  if  he  then  does  not  mend,  then  say  nothing 
more,  but  leave  it  in  God's  hands." 

And  this  is  a  wise  and  a  pious  advice.  For  you  do  not 
make  any  one  better  by  continually  scolding  and  railing. 
But  when  nothing  else  avails,  prayer  will  do  it. 

Believe  me,  children,  prayer  will  help  in  one  way  or 
other,  and  although  it  sometimes  feels  and  seems  to  him 
who  prays  as  if  God  did  not  hear  his  prayers,  yet  he  will, 
in  good  time,  find  that  the  Lord  is  faithful,  and  that  "  He 
who  prays  will  be  answered,  and  he  who  seeks  will  find." 
For  it  is  with  our  prayers  as  with  the  vapors  which  rise  out 
of  the  earth ;  they  return  to  it  again  as  fertilizing  rain. 
And  if  the  hearing  of  our  prayers  sometimes  does  not 
manifest  itself  in  the  way  you  expect,  you  will  still  find, 
sooner  or  later,  that  it  does  come ;  that  the  load  which  you 
have  prayed  might  be  taken  away  from  you,  has  been  re- 
moved ;  that  the  blessing  which  you  have  prayed  for  has 
been  given  to  you,  and  that  you  have  got  much  more 
(although,  perhaps,  in  another  way)  than  you  have  prayed 
for  or  even  dared  to  think  of.  Yes,  children,  hold  fast  to 
prayer  ;  it  is,  when  all  comes  round,  the  only  thing  that  is 
sufficient  on  this  earth  ;  it  is  the  most  wonderful  and  also 
the  most  effective  and  powerful  in  man's  life.  For  it  is  like 


SKETCHES.  395 

a  thread  which  unites  us  to  heaven,  by  which  God's  life 
and  power  comes  to  us.  The  Lord  himself  has  given  this 
thread  into  our  hands  and  bade  us  use  it  rightly,  that  we 
through  it  may  get  all  the  good  which  we  stand  in  need  of. 
But  good  is  nothing,  after  all,  without  God's  life  and  light 
in  our  hearts. 

And  the  mother  prayed  for  this  and  for  her  chjldren,  and 
for  a  blessing  upon  them  all.  And  while  she  thus  prayed, 
she  became  more  calm  inwardly.  She  then  turned  round 
to  look  at  her  little  ones,  on  whose  rosy  faces  the  light  from 
the  fire  was  dancing,  and  while  she  thus  lay  looking  at 
them  she  fell  asleep. 

When  she  awoke  it  was  totally  dark  in  the  room,  and 
she  felt  fear  and  anxiety  come  upon  her,  and  a  heavy 
weight  in  her  heart  and  head.  It  was  as  if  a  large,  heavy 
tear  had  gathered  there  and  would  not  drop  down,  but  was 
lying  heavy  as  lead.  The  death  of  her  husband,  the 
gloomy  mind  and  bitter  reproaches  of  her  son  Anders, 
her  loneliness,  and  the  dark  future  which  was  before  her, 
all  came  now  upon  her  like  a  snow  avalanche,  and  seemed 
almost  to  overwhelm  her.  She  heard  in  her  soul  Anders' 
bitter  words :  — 

"  Why  should  one  live  ?  "  and  she  thought  she  would  like 
never  to  rise,  but  lie  still  forever. 

But  yet  she  got  up  and  dressed,  and  lit  the  fire  as  usual, 
and  put  on  the  coffee-pot.  For  although  she  was  not  one 
of  the  wasteful  housewives  who  drink  coffee  every  day, 
still  the  whole  household  should  now  be  treated  to  coffee 
in  honor  of  Christmas. 

And  then  she  lit  the  candles  in  the  Yule  tree  at  the  win- 
dow, which  had  been  prepared  the  previous  evening,  and 
then  she  awoke  the  children. 

"  Christmas  matins,  children  !  Christmas  matins  !  " 

The  little  ones  started  up  bewildered,  rubbing  their  eyes, 
opened  them  wide,  and  saw  the  candles  burning  in  the  Yule 
tree.  Then  they  remembered  that  it  was  Christmas,  and 


396  SKETCHES. 

that  they  were  to  go  to  matins.  Then  they  jumped  up  and 
were  soon  wide  awake. 

The  mother  prepared  the  breakfast  for  them  and  for 
Anders,  and  then  went  out  to  milk  the  cows  and  look  to 
the  other  animals ;  when  she  came  back  she  dressed 
herself  and  the  children  for  breakfast,  while  Anders, 
always  sulky  and  taciturn,  went  to  harness  Polle  to  the 
sledge. 

When  the  sledge  stood  at  the  door,  and  the  mother 
stepped  out  of  the  cottage  in  her  holiday  dress,  with  her 
Psalm-book  and  white  pocket  handkerchief  in  her  hand, 
and  with  her  two  children,  one  on  each  side  of  her,  she 
looked  so  pious  and  pretty ;  and  Anders,  who  looked  at  her 
stealthily,  perhaps  thought  so  too. 

The  morning-star  and  the  moon  shone  so  bright  on  the 
firmament  over  the  dark  pine-forest,  and  shone  so  friendly 
in  the  bright,  frosty  morning  upon  the  new-fallen  snow. 
The  widow  thought :  "  How  much  that  is  beautiful  has  not 
God  done  for  us !  " 

And  she  inhaled  the  fresh  wintry  air  (not  very  cold  this 
morning),  and  she  felt  her  heart  becoming  lighter. 

Polle,  poor  old  Polle,  had  no  idea  that  they  contemplated 
selling  him  ;  he  was  in  high  spirits,  neighed,  pricked  up  his 
ears,  turning  his  pretty  head  now  to  one  side  and  now  to 
the  other,  pawing  the  snow  with  his  fore  feet,  and  was  as 
merry  as  a  foal. 

The  widow  and  the  two  children  were  soon  seated  in  the 
sledge.  Anders  stood  behind  driving,  and  Polle's  bell  was 
tinkling  right  merrily,  while  they  were  driving  along  the 
village  road  through  forest  and  field,  and  the  morning-star 
shone  upon  the  white  snow  fields,  and  upon  the  pine-trees 
heavily  laden  with  snow,  and  here  and  there  a  light  was 
seen  twinkling  in  the  forest.  The  little  ones  were  very 
talkative. 

"  Oh,  look,"  they  cried,  "  look  how  the  candles  are  shining 
in  the  Manor-house ;  candles  in  every  window !  Is  there 


SKETCHES.  397 

not  to  bft  a  grand  ball  the  day  after  to-morrow,  mother  ? 
And  look !  there  is  also  a  light  at  old  Mother  Brita's  on 
the  hill.  And  look  there  !  far,  far  in  the  forest  is  also  a 
light !  And  look  there !  well,  it  is  wonderful,  three  lights 
in  the  window  at  the  turnpike's,  three  candles  in  their  Yule 
tree  in  the  window;  see  how  they  shine  all  along  the 
road !  How  beautiful !  Is  it  more  beautiful  in  the  matins, 
mother  ?  " 

"  You  little  gooseys,"  said  the  mother,  "  the  matins  are 
beautiful  in  another  way !  " 

And  now  they  came  out  upon  the  high  road,  and  a  great 
many  people  came  driving,  all  going  to  church  ;  there  was 
a  long  line  of  sledges,  and  such  a  tinkling  of  bells  that  the 
children  became  almost  giddy  in  the  head.  When  they 
came  out  of  the  forest  upon  a  height,  there  was  lying  before 
them  an  open  valley,  and  yonder,  with  the  dark  forest  as  a 
background,  lay  the  white  church  with  its  spire  pointing 
high  up  towards  heaven,  and  with  lights  shining  through 
the  windows  as  if  there  was  an  ocean  of  light  within.  Just 
then  the  bells  began  ringing  to  summon  the  people  to 
church. 

The  children  became  quite  silent ;  a  solemn  and  strange 
feeling  came  over  them. 

They  were  soon  at  the  church.  The  bells  were  pealing 
and  light  was  streaming  out  of  the  church,  and  the  song 
and  the  organ  burst  forth.  All  around  was  dark  ;  the  moon 
had  gone  down. 

All  round  the  church  small  sledges  and  horses  stood 
closely  packed,  the  horses  munching  their  hay.  And 
amongst  these  Polle  got  a  place  and  a  large  bundle  of  the 
best  fodder  for  Christmas  breakfast,  and  a  horse-cloth  over 
him,  so  that  he  should  not  feel  the  cold  while  waiting.  And 
the  widow  patted  his  neck  so  kindly,  thinking,  "  Thanks, 
old  friend ;  perhaps  this  is  the  last  time  you  take  me  to 
church  !  "  And  she  could  not  help  sighing  deeply. 

The  widow  with  her  children  walked  across  the  church- 


398  SKETCHES. 

yard  between  the  silent  graves,  which  during  the  night 
had  been  covered  with  a  thick  mantle  of  snow. 

"  Do  you  remember,  children."  she  said,  while  slowly 
walking  forward,  "  what  I  have  told  you  about  the  Christ- 
mas matins,  and  why  we  have  Christmas  matins  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  little  Pehr  ;  "  it  is,  it  is  —  because  "  — 

"  Because  our  Lord  and  Redeemer  was  born  on  the 
Christinas  night,"  said  little  Maja. 

"  And  do  you  remember,"  continued  the  mother,  "  what 
I  have  told  you  about  Him,  and  of  the  good  which  He  has 
done  to  us  and  to  all  mankind  ?  " 

"  He  has  taught  us  "  —  stammered  the  children,  uncer- 
tain what  words  they  should  use. 

"  Yes,  dearest  children,"  said  the  mother,  "  I  cannot  tell 
you  all  that  He  has  done  for  us,  for  it  is  more  than  either 
you  or  I  can  understand.  Recollect  only,  that  He  has  lived 
and  died  for  us  ;  that  He  has  revealed  to  us  God's  heart 
and  God's  will  with  us ;  and  that  without  Him  we  should 
not  know  God  as  He  is,  nor  have  any  certain  hope  of  an 
hereafter.  He  came  to  this  earth  to  make  us  understand 
God's  love  and  to  teach  us  to  love  God." 

"  And  is  it  His  birth  which  we  celebrate  in  the  Christ- 
mas matins  ?  "  asked  little  Maja. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  mother.  "  He  is  the  light  of  the  world  ; 
and  He  has  made  life  light  for  us,  and  therefore  we  light 
candles  on  His  birthday." 

And  just  then  they  entered  the  church,  and  the  whole 
congregation  sang, — "All  hail !  ye  radiant  morning  hours !  " 

But  the  children  did  not  think  of  the  singing. 

They  could  only  stare  and  be  astonished.  There  was  so 
much  light,  so  much  light !  They  could  scarcely  see  any 
thing  for  all  the  light.  The  four  large  chandeliers  which 
were  hanging  over  the  middle  aisle  were  quite  full  of  can- 
dles, and  on  the  altar  candles  were  burning  in  large 
candelabra.  There  was  a  long  row  of  candles  along  the 
gallery,  and  on  the  walls  were  gilt  sconces  carrying  whole 


SKETCHES.  399 

bunches  of  candles,  and  at  every  seat  a  candle  was  burn- 
ing, so  that  the  aisle  looked  like  an  avenue  of  flames. 
Wherever  one  looked  there  was  nothing  but  candles. 

The  seats  were  crowded  with  people  who  sat  close  to- 
gether. The  children  had  never  seen  so  many  people. 
And  they  thought  that  they  would  never  get  a  seat.  But 
they  got  a  seat  in  a  pew  where  the  people  made  a  little 
room  for  them.  An  honest  peasant  woman  took  little  Maja 
upon  her  knee,  and  the  widow  took  Pehr  upon  hers,  and  so 
they  could  all  sit  comfortably. 

The  children  kept  gazing  about,  and  had  eyes  only  for  the 
splendor  around  them.  But  the  mother  soon  forgot  this 
and  every  thing  else  about  her  ;  for  just  as  she  was  going 
to  open  her  Psalm-book  to  join  in  the  singing,  the  congre- 
gation struck  up  the  verse :  — 

"  Yea,  even  as  we  our  Lord  shall  weep, 
Shall  know  our  wants,  watch  o'er  us  keep, 

•With  holy  strength  us  fill ; 
To  us  His  Father's  law  repeat, 
And  everlasting  mercy  sweet 
In  sorrow's  cup  distill." 

Then  the  leaden  weight  which  had  been  lying  upon  the 
widow's  heart  melted  away  and  was  dissolved  in  tears, 
which,  though  painful  at  first,  became  more  and  more  sweet 
They  were  like  a  balm  to  her. 

Now  the  clergyman  came  into  the  pulpit.  He  was  a 
young  man  with  a  good  face,  expressive  of  much  earnest- 
ness and  hearty  kindness.  He  was  a  son  of  the  old  incum- 
bent of  the  congregation,  and  it  was  known  that  he  was  a 
pure-minded  young  man,  who,  although  poor  himself,  had 
yet  done  a  great  deal  of  good  ;  was  always  cheerful  while 
visiting  the  cottages,  consoling  the  sick,  and  teaching  and 
conversing  with  the  children.  And  it  is  a  great  thing  when 
the  clergyman  who  is  to  teach  others  lives  according  to 
what  he  preaches,  and  when  one  knows  that  he  is  a  good 
Christian.  For  then  the  people  believe  in  his  word,  and  in 
the  power  which  works  through  him. 


400  SKETCHES. 

It  was  a  strange  feeling  for  the  widow  (and  for  another 
person,  too,  in  the  church),  when  they  heard  the  young 
clergyman's  first  words  :  — 

"  Why  are  we  to  live  ?  " 

She  could  not  help  stealing  a  hasty  glance  at  Anders, 
and  she  saw  that  he  looked  up  at  the  clergyman  in  aston- 
ishment, as  if  he  had  said  this  to  him  personally. 

And  he  did  so,  for  he  spoke  to  all  as  well  as  to  himself. 
And  especially  he  spoke  to  all  the  poor,  all  whom  in  the 
world  are  called  lowly  and  simple.  He  showed  how  the 
Saviour  had  let  Himself  be  born  like  one  of  them,  in 
order  to  wander  amongst  them,  to  show  them  what  they 
should  live  for,  and  how  beautiful  life  is  here  and  still  more 
hereafter,  in  eternity,  if  we  follow  Him  and  become  one 
with  Him,  and  through  Him  with  God.  When  he  then 
spoke  of  this  life,  how  great  it  could  be,  even  in  the  lowliest 
cottage ;  how  every,  even  apparently  insignificant,  human 
being  could  through  his  life  labor  for  God's  kingdom,  and 
for  the  advent  of  that  glory  for  which  we  all  long,  and  how 
every  one  could  in  this  labor  follow  the  heavenly  Redeemer, 
"  as  mother,  sister,  or  brother,"  and  afterwards  be  received 
in  the  heavenly  mansions,  where  they  shall  see  His  glory,  — 
then  this  little  life  appeared  so  great,  so  rich,  so  wonderful, 
and  so  full  of  the  future  and  of  happiness,  that  the  widow 
when  she  heard  it  (and  she  thought  that  she  had  never  be- 
fore understood  it  so)  thanked  God  for  having  been  born, 
and  for  being  allowed  to  live  for  so  beautiful  and  great  an 
aim.  She  felt  at  this  moment  as  if  nothing  could  be  too 
difficult  for  her  any  more.  That  every  trouble  has  a  change; 
that  is  certain.  God's  goodness  and  glory  lasted  eternally ; 
that  was  likewise  certain.  And  the  young  clergyman  spoke 
of  this  with  a  joy  which  lit  up  his  whole  face,  so  that  it  ap- 
peared to  the  widow  like  an  angel's. 

When  the  sermon  was  finished,  she  felt  an  impulse  to 
turn  her  head  towards  Anders,  and  then  she  saw  also  his 
eyes  bright,  as  she  had  never  seen  them  before.  It  was  as 
if  a  light  had  been  lit  within  him. 


SKETCHES.  401 

The  congregation  sang  another  psalm,  after  which  some 
of  them  left  the  church.  But  some  remained,  because  in 
half  an  hour  the  usual  morning  service  was  to  commence, 
and  the  people  do  not  all  go  home  between  the  two  ser- 
vices in  the  country,  where  they  often  live  at  a  great 
distance  from  the  church.  It  was  now  daylight  and  all  the 
candles  were  put  out. 

The  widow  left  the  church  with  her  two  little  children, 
because  they  were  to  go  to  the  poor-house  and  take  the 
"  flower- woman  "  her  Christmas  treat. 

The  "  flower-woman  "  was  a  handsome,  pale,  aged  woman, 
blind  of  both  eyes,  so  that  the  black  spot  in  the  pupil  of 
the  eye  was  completely  gone.  They  had  become  so,  she 
said,  when  she  had  her  eye-teeth  taken  out,  from  which  she 
had  suffered  severe  pain.  This  was  now  ten  years  ago. 
Formerly  she  used  to  wander  about  the  country,  teaching 
little  children  to  read,  and  making  beautiful  bouquets  of 
flowers  of  colored  paper,  which  she  put  into  platted  paper 
flower-pots,  and  gave  away  in  those  houses  where  people 
had  given  her  shelter  and  been  kind  to  her.  Thus  she  had 
wandered  about  and  lived  in  the  district  for  fifteen  years, 
and  nobody  knew  her  name,  nor  whence  she  came ;  they 
only  knew  that  she  came  from  a  distant  part  of  the  country, 
and  never  would  speak  of  herself  or  of  her  family,  nor  give 
any  account  of  herself;  there  was,  however,  something  in 
her  manners  and  in  her  speech  which  made  people  say  that 
there  was  something  u  strange  "  about  her,  but  that  one 
could  easily  see  that  she  belonged  to  the  better  class ;  and 
being  very  gentle  and  pious,  and  besides,  neat  and  well-man- 
nered in  her  person,  teaching  the  children  so  well  and 
making  such  beautiful  bouquets  of  flowers,  she  was  liked 
everywhere,  and  was  called  the  "  flower-woman  "  by  every 
one ;  and  peasants  and  farmers  all  liked  to  have  the  "  flower- 
woman  "  in  their  house  for  a  few  weeks  at  a  time.  After 
she  became  blind,  and  was  not  able  either  to  make  any 
more  bouquets,  or  to  teach  the  children  to  read,  or  to  pro- 


402  SKETCHES. 

vide  for  herself,  she  had  been  admitted  into  the  parish  poor- 
house.  And  people  who  still  had  some  of  her  bouquets, 
used  on  Sundays  to  come  and  give  her  a  little  "grub," 
as  they  called  it  in  the  country  —  a  few  eggs,  some  butter, 
or  some  such  things,  which  a  poor  old  body  might  relish. 

When  our  widow  from  the  cottage  in  the  forest  entered 
the  poor-house,  she  found  the  "  flower-woman  "  sitting  on 
her  bed,  and  four  other  old  women  sat  there  also  on  their 
beds,  all  in  their  holiday  dress,  and  the  floor  was  strewn 
with  juniper,  and  it  smelt  as  sweet  as  in  the  forest.  The 
"  flower-woman  "  was  paler  than  usual,  but  the  gentle  intel- 
ligent face  looked  more  happy  than  it  did  usually  since  she 
became  blind.  And  when  the  widow  had  chatted  with  her 
a  little  while,  and  asked  how  she  felt  at  present,  she  an- 
swered :  — 

"  God  be  praised !  for  since  some  time  I  have  had  much 
comfort,  for  1  have  lately  occasionally  seen  a  light.  It  is 
not  sunlight,  nor  is  it  light  from  the  flowers  ;  but  I  believe  it 
is  a  light  warning  me  that  I  am  approaching  that  country 
where  the  eyes  of  the  blind  shall  be  opened,  and  shall  be- 
hold the  glory  of  God  !  " 

The  widow  kept  these  words,  and  the  light  from  the'  face 
of  the  old  blind  woman  when  she  uttered  them,  in  her 
heart,  amongst  the  bright  impressions  which  she  had  re- 
ceived this  morning. 

Then,  before  the  morning  service  began,  she  was  seen 
standing  beside  Polle  with  the  farmer  from  "  the  Manor- 
house,"  and  both  were  patting  and  stroking  Polle.  And 
the  "  Manor-house  "  farmer,  some  said,  looked  afterwards 
as  if  he  was  richer  by  a  horse. 

The  sun  stood  high  in  the  heavens  when  the  service  was 
over  and  the  bells  were  ringing  the  people  out  of  church. 

In  a  few  minutes  it  was  entirely  empty,  and  now  the 
church  people  were  seen  running  and  driving  away  t in  all 
directions  along  the  roads  and  foot-paths,  over  snow-clad 
hills  and  dales,  trying  who  should  get  home  first.  For  it  is 


SKETCHES.  408 

a  saying  in  the  country,  that  he  who  reaches  home  first  on 
Christmas  Day  will  be  the  first  to  get  in  his  harvest  in 
the  autumn. 

But  this  is  more  a  saying  than  a  truth,  and  certain  it  is 
that  the  people,  while  driving  and  running  away  over  hill 
and  dale,  looked  so  merry,  that  it  was  easy  to  see  that  there 
was  more  fun  than  earnest  in  it. 

The  widow  was  not  in  any  hurry,  but  was  the  last  to 
leave  the  church  with  her  children.  The  sun  shone  brightly 
over  the  earth,  which  was  now  sleeping  its  winter-sleep 
under  a  shining  white  coverlet,  and  the  dark  pine-forest 
looked  sleepy  also,  as  it  stood  there  with  a  white  night-cap 
upon  its  rugged  head. 

In  silence  the  widow  drove  home  with  her  children 
through  the  forest. 

Serious,  although  not  gloomy  thoughts  made  her  silent. 
The  little  ones  were  hungry  and  cold,  and  what  Anders 
thought,  they  did  not  know.  But  Polle  was  thinking  of  his 
dinner,  that  was  clear,  for  he  trotted  home  as  fast  as  ever 
he  could,  and  his  bells  were  tinkling  merrily  through  the 
forest. 

And  soon  after  Polle  was  standing  in  his  stable,  and  gave 
himself  a  treat  of  Christmas  fodder,  so  that  you  could 
almost  hear  how  he  enjoyed  it.  And  the  widow  with  her 
children  was  also  soon  seated  at  the  dinner-table,  eating  a 
delicious  dish  of  cabbage-soup  and  beef.  And  I  cannot 
describe  to  you  how  well  it  tasted.  Certain  it  is  that  the 
king's  cabbage-soup  could  not  taste  better.  After  dinner 
they  had  a  cup  of  coffee  in  honor  of  Christmas  Day. 

Now,  when  it  was  dusk  and  they  were  all  sitting  in  the 
cottage,  where  the  Christmas  log  was  flaming  and  crackling 
on  the  hearth,  the  widow  said  to  the  children  :  — 

"  Well,  I  wonder  whether  my  little  ones  remember  any- 
thing of  the  sermon  at  the  matins,  and  what  the  young 
clergyman  told  us  about  Christ,  and  what  He  has  taught  us, 
and  what  we  ought  to  live  for." 


404  SKETCHES. 

But  alas !  the  poor  little  things  did  not  remember  a 
single  word  ;  no,  they  had  not  heard  even  one :  "  There 
was  so  much  light,"  said  they  ;  "  they  could  not  listen  for 
all  the  light!" 

Then  the  mother  told  them  what  the  clergyman  had 
said,  not  so  well  and  in  such  beautiful  words,  yet  clearly 
and  beautifully  after  her  own  fashion,  so  that  the  children 
understood  it  much  better  than  if  the  clergyman  himself 
had  told  it  them.  For  a  good  mother  is  always  the  best 
teacher  of  her  children,  and  can  put  her  words  so  that 
they  go  direct  to  the  heart  and  remain  there.  Therefore, 
also,  one  of  Sweden's  greatest  kings l  made  it  a  necessary 
point,  that  before  a  woman  was  allowed  to  marry,  she 
should  be  able  to  prove  herself  well  instructed  in  the 
Christian  religion,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  it  is  the  mother  who  is 
to  teach  the  children." 

Pehr  and  Maja  were  good  and  intelligent  children,  and 
understood  what  the  mother  told  them,  and  remembered  it 
in  their  hearts.  Then  they  were  allowed  to  go  and  play 
with  their  paper  flowers,  and  some  toys  which  the  "  flower- 
woman  "  had  given  them,  and  which  she  had  kept  since 
the  time  when  she  still  could  see. 

The  mother  and  the  son  Anders  remained  sitting  alone 
at  the  hearth.  Anders  was  sitting  with  folded  arms  and 
bent  head,  while  he  was  intently  gazing  at  the  fire.  The 
mother  looked  at  him.  Hitherto  he  had  not  said  a  single 
friendly  word  to  her  since  the  previous  evening ;  but  yet  it 
appeared  to  her  as  if  something  had  softened  within  him. 

After  a  while  she  said,  suppressing  a  rising  sigh,  which 
almost  choked  her  voice  :  — 

"  Anders,  I  have  been  thinking  what  you  said  last  night 
about  Polle,  that  we  ought  to  sell  him,  and  I  have  spoken 
to  the  farmer  from  the  '  Manor-house,'  and  he  told  me 
that  he  would  take  him  for  one  hundred  rix  dollars.  He 
will  come  to  fetch  him  away  to-morrow,  and  pay  half  the 
I  Charles  XI. 


SKETCHES.  405 

money  at  once.  This  shall  be  yours,  Anders,  and  you  may 
do  with  it  what  you  like  ;  you  are  sensible  enough  to  man- 
age your  own  affairs  now ;  only  —  my  son  —  don't  again  say 
that  I  am  only  your  step-mother ;  for  your  father  was  very 
dear  to  me ! "  The  widow  could  not  keep  back  her  tears. 

Anders  rose  from  his  seat.  It  was  as  if  the  ice  about 
his  heart  had  at  once  broken  up  and  the  snow  over  it  had 
melted  away.  His  lips  trembled,  and  his  whole  frame  shook 
with  emotion,  while  he  said :  — 

"  No,  mother,  you  shall  not  sell  Polle  ;  the  farmer  from 
the  '  Manor-house '  shall  not  have  him ;  you  shall  keep 
him,  and  every  Sunday,  if  it  pleases  God,  I  will  drive 

you   to   church   with   him I   have  done  you 

wrong,  mother;  ....  I  know  now  that  you  love 
me,  and  I  know  now  for  what  I  shall  live !  I  have  not 
known  it  before  ;  but  now,  henceforth  it  shall  be  otherwise. 
.  .  .  You  shall  see  it,  mother  !  This  farm  I  shall  man- 
age so  that  we  have  credit  of  it,  and  fodder  enough  shall 
Polle  have  until  his  dying  day ;  .  .  .  that  shall  be  my 
business.  Every  thing  shall  henceforth  be  different ;  .  .  . 
I  do  not  know  how  it  is ;  but  I  feel  so  strange  within  me 
since  this  morning.  Do  not  be  sorry  any  longer,  mother ! 
God  has  " —  He  became  silent  and  could  not  continue  ;  and 
as  now  little  Maja  came  to  him  with  her  flower-pot,  asking 
him  to  smell  it,  he  took  her  and  the  flower-pot  in  his  arms, 
and  kissed  her  again  and  again,  and  cried  over  her  and  over 
the  paper  flowers  so  bitterly,  that  little  Maja,  quite  alarmed, 
began  also  to  cry  with  all  her  might. 

"  The  peace  of  God  be  with  you  ! "  said  a  happy  and 
friendly  voice  at  the  door,  which  slowly  opened,  and  in 
stepped  the  young  clergyman  who  had  preached  in  the 
matins,  and  who  looked  as  if  he  had  brought  all  the  light 
from  it  along  with  him.  He  had  heard  the  sorrowing 
widow  in  the  forest  cottage  spoken  of,  and  came  to  speak 
words  of  comfort  to  her,  and  if  possible  to  bring  happiness 
into  the  house  of  mourning. 


406  SKETCHES. 

But  he  found  it  already  there,  for  before  him  had  been 
He  of  whom  he  had  preached  in  the  morning,  and  whose 
message  he  wanted  to  bring  to  them. 

But  yet  he  remained  a  long  while  in  the  cottage,  con- 
versing with  the  widow  and  Anders,  whose  heart  now 
seemed  to  be,  as  it  were,  new-born.  The  young  clergyman 
promised  to  lend  him  books,  and  invited  him  to  come  and 
see  him. 

He  wished  to  instruct  and  make  some  young  men 
amongst  the  country  people  practice  singing  quartettes,  and 
he  wished  Anders  to  join  them,  for  he  had  heard  that 
Anders  had  a  good  voice.  And  so  he  had. 

When  the  friendly  young  clergyman  took  leave,  and 
shook  Anders'  hand,  then  Anders'  eyes  sparkled  more  hap- 
pily than  they  had  ever  done  before.  He  felt  as  if  he  had 
that  day  got  father,  mother,  brother,  and  the  whole  world. 

He  wondered  inwardly  how  every  thing  could  have 
changed  so  much  in  such  a  short  time. 

And  from  this  moment  Anders  became  quite  a  different 
being  to  what  he  had  been  formerly.  Not  exactly  that  he 
became  more  talkative  or  more  lively,  for  every  body  has  in 
this  respect  his  own  humor,  but  he  became  very  industri- 
ous, and  friendly  to  all.  Every  body  liked  him  and  one 
could  see  that  he  now  liked  to  live.  In  the  church  he  sang 
so  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  hear  him.  At  home  the  widow 
forgot  that  he  was  not  her  real  son  ;  for  a  real  son  could 
not  have  been  more  loving  to  his  mother.  And  although 
he  was  taciturn,  yet  he  was  never  sulky  ;  nay,  his  very  out- 
ward appearance  became  changed.  It  seemed  at  times  as 
if  something  was  shining  within  him,  so  brightly  shone  his 
eyes.  And  the  little  brother  and  sister,  who  noticed  it, 
used  then  to  say  to  each  other  and  to  their  mother,  — 

"  Now  there 's  Christmas  matins  in  Anders  ! " 


POEMS. 


*  HYMN. 

LORD  God,  we  worship  Thee ! 

Heavenly  Father,  we  give  thanks  to  Thee, 

For  Thy  word, 

For  Thy  love  made  manifest  on  earth,  O  Lord. 
Thou  who  hast  saved  us, 
From  death's  bonds  delivered  us, 
Called  us  to  life  eternal, 

Glory  be  to  Thee ! 

Father,  0  bless  us, 

Cause  Thy  face  to  shine  on  us! 

Let  Thy  light 

Guide  our  steps  to  Thy  mansions  bright! 
O  let  Thy  Spirit 
Thy  fallen  image  glorify, 
That  in  Thine  image,  0  Father, 
Thou  may'st  be  glorified ! 

*  GOSPEL   TIDINGS. 

O  GOD,  we  never  knew  Thee, 
"We  walked  in  darkest  night, 
Till  thou  didst  send  the  Saviour 
Clothed  in  Thy  power  and  light; 
To  Thee  be  praise  and  honor, 
In  heaven  and  earth,  O  Lord, 


408  POEMS. 

For  the  blessings  of  our  Christian  faith, 
And  for  Thy  gospel's  word. 

Oh  blest  are  those  who  treasure 

The  word  of  life  and  love, 

Who  tread  the  paths  that  lead  them 

To  God's  own  heaven  above. 

And  they  shall  learn  forever 

How  precious  is  the  Lord, 

How  those  who  love  His  holy  name 

Shall  reap  a  rich  reward. 

*THE  LORD'S  SUPPEE. 

OH,  miracle  of  grace ! 

On  thee  our  thoughts  shall  dwell, 
In  hours  of  lonely  peace, 

With  love  unspeakable. 
God  gives  Himself  for  me, 

Hid  in  this  wine  and  bread, 
That  I  in  life  and  death  may  be 

One  with  our  living  Head. 

He  is  our  meat  indeed, 

Our  drink,  life  of  our  life  ; 
Thus  sanctified  He  '11  lead 

Us  to  eternal  life. 
Fain  would  He  see  our  hearts 

Holy  and  pure  as  His, 
As  strong  'gainst  sin  and  sorrow's  darts, 

As  full  of  tenderness. 

So  God  this  earth  did  seek, 

Of  human  form  possessed, 
Salvation's  word  to  speak, 

And  clasp  us  to  His  breast. 


POEMS.  409 

Then  hopes  of  life  immortal 

Rose  in  this  vale  of  death, 
Those  hopes  that  ope  heaven's  glorious  portal, 

To  all  on  earth  beneath. 

He  still  draws  nigh  this  day 

To  us,  that  Saviour  good, 
And  would  our  thirst  allay 

With  His  most  precious  blood; 
Would  make  our  hearts  more  pure, 

More  chastened  and  upright, 
And  grant  our  union  firm  and  sure 

With  God  in  endless  light. 

0  Thou!  once  pierced  for  us, 

Who  didst  our  souls  deliver, 
Thou  who  hast  died  for  us, 

Of  life  and  light  the  giver !  * 
Accept  us,  Christ,  we  pray, 

While  we,  in  holy  peace, 
Renew  with  grateful  hearts  this  day 

Thy  covenant  of  grace. 

Be  Thou  our  hope  most  sure, 

Our  strength,  life's  precious  bread  ! 
Within  Thy  church  secure 

E'en  death  we  need  not  dread. 
Our  life,  our  resurrection, 

Thou  evermore  shalt  be: 
To  Thee  all  worlds  are  in  subjection: 

Glory,  O  Lord,  to  Thee ! 


410  POEMS. 


*TO  MY  SISTERS. 

How  blest  is  he  that,  like  Tobias,  goes 

Upon  his  way  by  some  good  angel  led 
Who  gives  him  light  when  midnight  shadows  close, 

Who  gives  him  strength  when  sinks  his  weary  head. 

Thus  once  my  way  was  dark  ;  oh,  fain  would  I 
That  none  might  tread  a  path  so  full  of  gloom ; 

I  knew  not  whither  from  deep  woe  to  fly, 

From  anguish  that  my  life-blood  would  consume ! 

My  cheek  was  pale,  my  eyes  were  running  o'er 
With  bitter  tears.     My  heart  in  desolation 

Saw  suffering,  like  a  vast  and  rankling  sore, 
Prey  on  the  vitals  of  God's  fair  creation. 

I  looked  for  dawn,  I  found  but  nightly  gloom,  — 
No  hope  of  happier  days,  no  blessed  faith ; 

Life  burned,  like  some  wild  meteor  in  a  tomb, 
In  my  sad  heart :  I  only  prayed  for  death. 

Then  spake  a  voice,  like  angel-whispers  blest, 
And  at  those  tones  of  love,  so  soft  and  clear 

Stilled  was  the  tumult  wild,  peace  filled  my  breast, 
And  lo!  those  angels  were  my  sisters  dear. 

The  skies  grew  bright ;  my  tear-dimmed  eyes  once  more 
With  hopeful  gaze  I  raised  to  heaven  above  ; 

I  looked  around ;  earth  smiled  from  shore  to  shore, 
For  joy  had  wooed  me  in  my  sisters'  love. 

O  God,  'tis  sweet  such  solace  to  receive, 

With  nobler  aims  to  see  new  springs  draw  nigh ! 

My  sisters,  lo !  wild  storms  no  longer  heave, 
My  soul  is  calm,  my  tears  are  tears  of  joy. 


POEMS.  411 

Pure,  gentle  ones,  I  turn  with  fond  emotion 
To  you,  and  would  to  all  the  world  express, 

That  all  I  have  I  owe  to  your  devotion,  — 

My  mite  of  strength,  my  hope,  my  earthly  bliss. 

Oh,  it  is  hard  to  feel  such  loving  debt, 

Which  by  our  deeds  can  ne'er  be  canceled  quite ; 

To  throw  it  off  I  wrote  a  book,  —  and  yet 
That  pleasant  burden  never  grew  more  light. 

Sisters,  if  in  these  pages,  now  to  you 

Inscribed,  you  find  some  balm  for  tears  that  fall 

From  sorrow's  eye,  some  thoughts  both  pure  and  true, 
From  my  good  angels'  hearts  I  've  called  them  all. 

*THE    CRADLE    OF  LOVE. 

ROCK,  rock,  cradle  of  Love ! 
Flow,  O  Song,  with  thy  silvery  strain ; 
Throbbing  hearts  shall  its  sweetness  prove, 
Soothe  this  earth  in  her  tumult  and  pain : 
Rock,  rock,  cradle  of  Love ! 

Lull  the  memories  of  bitter  wrong  ; 
Bid  each  tender  and  holy  dream  — 
Herald  of  truth  —  round  the  slumberer  throng  ; 
Launch  the  keel,  but  on  Love's  broad  stream, 
Guided  by  Hope,  the  immortal,  the  strong. 

Thoughts  soar  upward  to  realms  above  ; 
Fight,  strong  arm,  in  our  stalwart  North; 
Champion  of  truth  and  of  right  thou  shalt  prove ; 
Over  all  this  tumultuous  earth 
Flow.  O  Song,  let  thy  strains  go  forth : 
Rock,  rock,  cradle  of  Love  ! 


412  POEMS. 


*THE  STAR. 

GLITTERING  in  the  skies  I  burn, 

Brilliant  as  when  erst, 
Singing  on  my  natal  morn, 

I  from  chaos  burst. 
Far  in  azure  space,  where  I 

Dwelt  since  thousand  years, 
I  have  seen  the  storms  sweep  by 

Round  yon  lower  spheres. 

Mortals !   gazing  silently 

With  unchanging  ray, 
Every  lurking  snare  I  see 

On  your  mazy  way ; 
See  how  passions  wild  enthrall 

All  the  race  of  man  ; 
How  his  empires  rise  and  fall 

Silently  I  scan; 

See  men  lavish  wealth  and  state, 

See  them  idly  fret ; 
How  eternal  love  and  hate, 

Yet  full  soon  forget. 
I  have  seen  how  pleasures  showe 

Then  as  swiftly  fly, 
Beauty  fading  like  a  flower, 

But  unchanged  was  I. 

He  whose  sceptre  ruled  the  world 

I  have  seen  forlorn, 
From  his  throne  imperial  hurled, 

Pointed  at  with  scorn. 
Heroes,  sovereigns,  and  slaves, 

All  to  dust  must  turn : 


POEMS.  413 


Silent  o'er  forgotten  graves, 
Still  my  lamp  doth  burn. 

Oft  when  in  the  dead  of  night 

Some  sad  eye  was  raised, 
Tearful,  to  my  placid  light, 

All  undimmed  I  gazed. 
On  the  mourner  still  I  'd  shine, 

By  her  prayers  unmoved, 
For  I  knew  she  soon  would  join 

Him  she  fondly  loved. 

Oft  when  innocence  opprest 

Bows  her  troubled  head, 
And  with  anguish  stricken  breast 

Cries  to  Heaven  for  aid, 
Then  I  beam  more  golden  bright, 

Knowing  she  will  shine 
Once  'mid  angels  with  a  light 

Clear  and  white  as  mine. 

Mortals !   't  is  decreed  by  Heaven 

Ye  like  flowers  should  die, 
Yet  accept  the  promise  given 

Ere  your  hour  draws  nigh ; 
Know  God's  faithful  ones  shall  be 

Stars  of  heaven  bright, 
When  I  and  all  these  orbs  with  m 

Long  have  lost  our  light. 

*  THE  POETRY  OF  SPRING. 

Now  the  trees  their  snow-capes  doff, 
While  the  swallows,  light  of  wing, 

On  their  airy  trips  set  off, 
Merry  harbingers  of  spring. 


414  POEMS. 

Zephyr  with  his  team  is  dashing 

Swiftly  over  land  and  sea, 
Where  he  sweeps  —  the  waves  are  flashing, 

Banks  are  green,  and  streamlets  free. 

'Neath  the  azure  skies  of  spring, 
All  the  budding  groves  among, 

Little  birds  in  joyous  ring, 

Gather  for  their  feast  of  song. 

o 

Charmed  by  their  strains,  each  bud 
Opes  its  eye  in  field  and  brake  ; 

While,  applauding  in  the  wood, 
Tender  leaflets  thrill  and  shake. 

Merry  midges  loudly  cheer, 

Dancing  in  their  chambers  bright ; 

Round  the  honeyed  blossom  near 
Bees  are  murmuring  with  delight. 

In  the  golden  sunbeams  flash 

Purple-winged  butterflies ; 
O'er  the  flow'ry  meads  they  dash, 

Full  of  fluttering  hopes  and  joys. 

Spring  all  living  creatures  hail  ; 

Whilst  man  claims,  with  yearnings  high, 
Promises  that  ne'er  shall  fail, 

As  he  gazes  towards  the  sky. 

For  this  short-lived  spring,  this  clear 
Crescent  moon  of  life,  was  given 

As  a  type,  foreshadowing  here 
That  eternal  spring  of  heaven. 


POEMS.  415 

When  life's  wintry  days  have  fled, 

To  that  spring  of  endless  joys, 
By  a  law  eternal  led, 

The  heaven-born  bird  of  passage  flies. 

•AUTUMN   SIGHS. 

COME,  Nature's  sleep,  come,  silvery  snow, 

Life's  solace  in  the  North, 
And  a  shower  of  downy  blossoms  throw 

O'er  the  poor,  hard-frozen  earth. 

O'er  all  the  fallen,  frost-nipped  leaves, 

And  the  withered  flow'rets  small, 
O'er  the  herbs  of  the  field  thy  finger  weaves 

A  cold  and  solemn  pall. 

It  seemeth  sad,  that  snow-white  pall, 

Yet  peace  beneath  it  dwells, 
And  't  is  ever  in  peace  God  worketh  all 

His  wondrous  miracles. 

The  snow  shall  melt  at  the  breath  of  spring, 

And  moisten  the  lap  of  earth, 
And  the  germs  in  her  bosom  slumbering 

Shall  wake  to  sunshine  and  mirth. 

In  tears  the  snow-drift  melts  away, 

The  brook  makes  a  tender  moan, 
And  earth  grows  green  as  the  soft  winds  play, 

Nor  thinks  of  the  days  that  are  gone. 

The  tree  that  braved  the  wintry  storm, 

With  branches  bare  and  brown, 
As  the  brooklets  sing  in  the  sunbeam  warm, 

Puts  on  its  leafy  crown. 


416  POEMS. 

And  we  who  have  buried  hopes  and  joys 

On  dark  Oblivion's  shore, 
Oh  may  not  we,  e'en  we,  arise 

To  live  and  praise  once  more  ? 

Then  fall,  O  snow,  tired  Nature's  sleep, 
We  '11  rest  and  forget  while  't  is  night ; 

But  in  winter's  slumber,  calm  and  deep, 
"We  '11  dream  of  the  spring-tide  bright. 
December,  1847. 


*THE  CRIPPLE'S  MISSION. 

ON  bed  of  straw,  all  racked  with  pain, 

A  wretched  woman  lay ; 
For  twenty  years  she  thus  had  lain, 

And  suffered  night  and  day : 
With  crippled  limbs,  with  joints  awry, 
She  writhed  in  bitter  agony. 

No  friend  or  kin  with  watchful  care 

Her  bed  of  pain  did  tend, 
But  she  was  wont  in  silence  there 

Her  lonely  hours  to  spend : 
'T  was  but  the  hand  of  charity 
At  times  would  food  or  aid  supply. 

A  worthy  pastor  heard  one  day 

This  tale  of  hopeless  woe, 
He  took  his  staff  and  went  his  way 

Some  comfort  to  bestow : 
And  by  her  bed,  in  accents  meek, 
Of  peace  and  love  he  fain  would  speak. 

And  when  he  saw  her  thus  laid  low, 
All  comfort  he  forgot, 


POEMS.  417 

He  could  but  falter :  «  Child  of  woe, 

Thine  is  a  grievous  lot." 
And  at  that  fearful  sight  amazed, 
To  heaven  his  tear-dimmed  eyes  he  raised. 

Thus  the  consoler  found  no  word 

To  soothe  the  sufferer  there ; 
Yet  not  a  single  plaint  he  heard,  — 

No  murmur  met  his  ear : 
And  —  wond'rous  sight  —  with  glances  mild 
She  turned  to  him,  and  gently  smiled. 

"  Thanks,  reverend  Sir,  for  this  warm  tear ! 

Yet,  should  it  please  the  Lord 
Still  twenty  years  to  keep  me  here, 

I  'd  speak  no  fretful  word." 
She  said  :  surprised,  once  more  to  try 
Her  faith,  the  pastor  made  reply,  — 

"  What !  pray'st  thou  not  that  God  above 

Would  end  thy  misery  soon  ?  " 
"  I  'm  thankful,  thankful  for  His  love ; 

His  will  alone  be  done." 
"  But  such  fierce  pains  are  hard  to  bear." 
"  In  bitterest  pains  my  God  is  near." 

"  But  what  if  God  forgetteth  thee  ?" 

His  own  he  '11  ne'er  forget." 
"  He  dwells  so  far  from  thee  and  me, 

Where  thousand  stars  are  set" 
"  The  sparrows  small  His  eye  can  see, 
Far  more  He  '11  watch  o'er  thee  and  me." 

"  0  d;. lighter !  sure  such  faith  is  rare, 

Whence  was  this  grace  obtained  ?  " 
"  In  God's  own  word,  with  many  a  prayer, 

This  rprtnin  trust  I  gained, 

i.7 


418  POEMS. 

And  oft  in  mine  own  breast  I  hear 
My  Father's  voice  that  whispers  cheer. 

"  He  says  :  '  Yet  bear  a  little  while 

Thy  cross  with  patient  love, 
And  thus  to  men,  by  thy  calm  smile, 

My  strength  in  weakness  prove  ; 
Such  be  thy  work,  —  perform  it  well, 
Then  come  with  Me  in  bliss  to  dwell.' 

"  Oh,  blest  even  now,  the  captive  may 

Bear  witness  of  His  love, 
Till,  freed  from  bonds,  as  clear  as  day 

She  sees  His  face  above. 
To  serve  Him  there  as  here,  aright, 
Is  my  desire,  my  sole  delight." 

Struck  dumb,  but  not,  as  erst,  with  dread, 

The  worthy  pastor  stood : 
"  0  gracious  God !  "  he  inly  said, 

In  grateful,  melting  mood, 
"  Take  health,  take  all  my  earthly  bliss, 
But  give  me,  Lord,  a  heart  like  this ! " 

*  THE  SONG  OF  THE  WEARY  ONE. 

OH  that  day  will  come,  it  will  come  at  last, 

When  my  weary  eyelids  close, 
When  I  lay  me  down  to  my  long,  long  rest, 

And  this  aching  heart  shall  repose. 

All  bitter  memories  —  oh,  thought  of  peace !  — 
Shall  fade  when  my  breath  is  fleeting ; 

And  the  anguish  that  racks  my  heart  shall  cease 
When  that  heart  is  no  longer  beating. 


POEMS.  419 

Oh,  even  to  rest  and  forget  were  a  boon, 

Nought  more  would  I  pray  for  now ; 
But  I  know  that  the  Lord  in  his  mercy  soon 

A  happier  fate  will  bestow. 

1  know,  oh,  I  know  that  a  morning  will  break, 
When  from  death's  dark  sleep  I  shall  rise, 

When  the  soul,  no  more  toil-worn,  wayward,  and  weak, 
Shall  plume  its  bright  wings  for  the  skies. 

I  know,  oh,  I  know  that  once  more  I  shall  see, 

In  glories  that  tongue  cannot  tell, 
Those  eyes  that  were  wont  to  look  fondly  on  me, 

Those  friends  that  have  loved  me  so  well. 

I  know  that  the  discords  that  harassed  us  here 

Shall  melt  into  strains  of  joy  ; 
For  love  is  the  sun  of  that  heavenly  sphere, 

And  its  light  is  in  every  eye. 

I  know  that  the  radiance  of  heaven  shall  illume 

Life's  pathways  on  earth,  and  show 
Why  the  pilgrims  who  seek  their  Father's  home 

Oft  must  wander  through  toil  and  woe. 

I  know  that  beside  the  pure  waters  of  life 

The  weary  will  find  repose  ; 
Will  drink  new  strength,  after  sorrow  and  strife, 

From  the  fountain  that  ever  flows. 

Then  be  of  good  cheer,  and  wait,  O  my  soul ! 

And  take  what  the  Lord  shall  provide  ; 
All  things  are  done  well  by  His  loving  control,  — 

In  His  keeping  securely  abide. 


420  POEMS. 

And  whilst  them  art  wandering,  oh,  list  to  the  song, 
Through  earth's  wide  chambers  it  rings  : 

"  The  day  shall  be  dawning,  it  cometh  erelong, 
When  the  slumberer  awaketh  —  with  wings." 

*  RESIGNATION. 

IN  the  flower,  the  billow,  the  beams  of  the  sun, 

O  God,  we  can  read  of  thy  might ! 
It  gleams  in  the  gorgeous  garlands  of  June, 
'T  is  traced  in  the  insects'  dances  at  noon, 

In  the  star-spangled  garments  of  night. 

But  brightest  those  heavenly  features  glow 

In  a  suffering  mortal's  breast, 
When  he  calmly  tastes  of  the  banquet  of  woe, 
And  drains  its  cup  to  the  dregs  below, 

With  a  saint-like  patience  blest 

On  his  lips  unmurmuring  a  smile  doth  play, 

Whilst  of  hope  and  faith  they  tell ; 
We  see  him  go  on  his  weary  way, 
And  we  laud  our  God,  and  humbly  pray, 

That  in  us,  too,  His  spirit  may  dwell. 

*  CONSOLATION  IN  MATURE. 

0  CHILD  of  sorrow !     Thine  eye  is  dimmed 

TBy  the  mists  of  bitter  woe  ; 
O'er  all  this  earth  thy  glance  hath  skimmed, 

Yet  it  could  not  read  nor  know 
That  holy  writ,  full  of  solace  sweet, 
Which  springs  from  the  sod  beneath  thy  feet 

Oh,  wipe  the  tear-drop  from  thine  eyes, 
God's  writing  it  must  not  hide  ; 


POEMS.  421 


See  how  the  beams  of  morning  rise 
From  the  darksome  ocean's  tide, 
And  how  the  sweet  spring  breezes  play 
When  the  stormy  winter  has  passed  away. 

And  learn  that  symbol's  message  blest : 

A  brighter  dawn  shall  come ; 
Soon  in  thy  anguish-stricken  breast 

The  spring  of  peace  will  bloom. 
And  as  yon  lowering  thunder-cloud 

Is  swept  from  heaven  away, 
The  shades  that  now  thy  spirit  shroud 

Shall  yield  to  perfect  day. 

And  when  thou  seest  the  bud  that  opes 

To  a  flower  of  gorgeous  hue, 
Know  that  erelong  thy  heart's  fond  hopes 

Shall  bloom  and  blossom  too. 
But  let  the  seed  of  the  withered  flower 

Teach  thee,  O  blossom  fair, 
That  thou  must  die  —  in  happier  hour 

Yet  fairer  flowers  to  bear ! 

CRADLE  AND   GRAVE. 

EARLIEST^  latest, 
Sacred  to  mortals, 
Consecrate  places 
Of  slumber  and  peace ! 
Tranquil  asylums, 
Sheltering  harbors, 
Shrouded  in  airy 
Fugitive  shadows, 
Where  tears  of  humanity 
Have  their  beginning, 
Have  too  their  ending, 


422  POEMS. 

Mortals  have  called  you  — 
Cradle  and  grave. 

By  you,  twin -brothers, 
Mystical  cherubs 
With  torches  low-drooping 
Stand  ever  watchful ; 
Slumber  and  Death, 
Innocent  children, 
By  you  stand  weaving 
Garlands  of  poppies, — 
Garlands  of  lovely 
Blossoms  immortal ; 
Placing  them  softly 
Now  on  the  hoary 
Head  of  the  old  man, 
Now  on  the  young  child's 
Bright  golden  curls, 
Now  on  the  thoughtful 
Strong  man's  brow. 
Whisper :  "  Sleep  sweetly  !  * 
Straightway  they  slumber, 
Moments  speed  onwards, 
Sorrows  lie  silent, 
All  is  so  well. 

Ye  blessed,  ye  radiant 
Visions  of  childhood ! 
Haply  the  sleeper  — 
The  sleepor  low  lying  — 
Once  more  beholds  you ! 
Haply  he  findeth 
In  peaceful  seclusion, 
Not  as  delusion, 
His  cradle's  dream. 


POEMS.  423 

Rose  tints  of  morning, 

Evening  clouds  golden! 

Gleams  of  eternity 

Beckon  from  both ; 

Breathe  in  the  flowers 

Love  scatters  over 

The  bed  of  the  sleeper ; 

Echo  in  music 

Of  lullabies  tender, 

Which  love  singeth  softly 

By  cradle  and  grave : 

"  During  thy  sleep 

An  angel  doth  keep 

Watch  over  thee  ; 

Waiting  the  hour 

When  thou,  by  the  power 

Of  love's  kiss,  wakened  shalt  be." 

Cradle  of  childhood ! 
Sweetly  I  slumbered 
On  thee,  thou  tiny 
Snowy  white  bed : 
Grave  ever  yearned  for! 
Laid  in  thy  harder, 
Gloomier  bosom, 
I  long  to  lie  sleeping,  — 
Long  to  find  coolness 
For  heart-burning  fever,  — 
Long  to  find  rest 

O!  might  I  only 
Slumber  so  calmly 
In  motherly  bosom, 
Lying  so  peaceful 
In  motherly  earth ! 
Blessed  and  thankful, 


424  POEMS. 

My  vision  departing, 
Then  with  my  final 
Sigh  would  bear  witness: 
"  Fair  was  my  morning, 
Sweet  is  my  eve." 

M.  R.  w. 

*MY  MORNING   SONG. 

August  24th,  1828. 

0  THOU,  of  life  the  light,  the  joy, 
Thou  morning  sun,  God's  glorious  eye ! 
Now  do  I  hail  thee,  bending  lowly, 
And  bless  the  love,  so  pure,  so  holy, 
That  lights  thy  beams  o'er  earth  and  sky. 

Eternal  Lord,  how  bright,  how  clear, 
How  warm,  Thy  being  all  divine, 
In  Nature  imaged,  meets  us  here  ! 
Father  of  light,  in  light's  own  shrine 
Revealed,  we  see  Thy  glory  shine. 

E'en  as  the  smallest  meadow  flower, 
Thus  lowly  am  I  in  Thy  sight ; 
Yet  on  us  both  Thou  deign'st  to  pour 
The  fullness  of  Thy  blessed  light, 
Making  our  hidden  paths  look  bright. 

A  grateful  heart  that  lowly  one 
Doth  bring ;  what  else  can  she  bestow  ? 
0  Father,  look  Thy  child  upon : 
'Midst  all  thy  children,  high  and  low, 
She  humbly  brings  this  offering  now. 


POEMS.  425 

*  PEACE. 

October  24th,  1828. 

ALL  is  still ;  sweet  Peace  descending, 
Bids  my  heart  no  longer  languish  ; 

While  the  hours  too  swiftly  wending 
"Wake  no  restless  sigh  of  anguish. 

Beauteous  stranger,*  whence  art  coming  — 

Coming,  when  my  need  is  sorest? 
With  thy  lilies  ever  blooming, 

Thou  this  drooping  heart  restorest 

Com'st  thou  like  some  nightly  vision, 

O  thou  flattering  deceiver? 
Shall  thy  fountain's  stream  Elysian 

From  my  lips  be  snatched  forever? 

Art  thou  like  the  north  light  beaming, 
When  my  charmed  eye  beholds  thee  ? 

Like  the  flame  o'er  tombstone  gleaming, 
Swiftly  quenched  when  darkness  folds  thee  ? 

Like  the  west  wind  softly  blowing, 
That  of  summer's  advent  speaketh  ? 

Like  those  tears  repentant  showing 
When  God's  voice  the  sinner  waketh  ? 

Com'st  thou  from  bright  regions  soaring, 

With  some  blessed  salutation  ? 
Then  with  psalms  I'll  turn  adoring 

To  the  God  of  my  salvation. 

Sure  some  glimpses  thou  wilt  waken 
Of  that  home  with  all  its  treasures ; 

Make  this  heart,  with  anguish  shaken, 
Fit  to  taste  of  heavenly  pleasures. 


426  POEMS. 

Soon,  methinks,  on  loosened  pinions, 
Hope  reviving  in  my  bosom, 

I  shall  seek  those  blest  dominions, 
Where  thy  silver  lilies  blossom. 

Where  no  tear  the  cheek  shall  furrow ; 
Where  no  heart  with  pain  shall  quiver; 
rhere  the  ransomed  sons  of  son- 
Rest  in  arms  of  peace  forever. 


Where  the  ransomed  sons  of  sorrow 


*THE  VOLCANO. 

'T  is  done,  burnt  out  is  the  volcano's  fire, 
The  lava  flood  no  longer  wildly  dashes  ; 

Gained  is  iis  object:  lo,  the  fierce  destroyer 
Grows  calm  at  last,  for  it  is  burnt  to  ashes  ! 

Know'st  thou  the  spot  where  rose  a  fiery  pillar, 
Fearfully  bright,  in  night's  embraces  lost? 

Seest  thou  in  blaze  of  noon  yon  dim  cloud-pillar, 
On  funeral  pyre  ?     'T  is  the  dead  mountain's  ghost. 

And  know'st  thou  where  the  seething  lava  streams, 
Poured  from  the  giant's  heart  with  terror  rife? 

Behold  yon  Eden,  fair  as  childhood's  dreams, 
From  the  "  destroyer 's "  breast  it  sprang  to  life. 

O'er  sunlit  uplands  golden  harvests  spread, 
And  cities  rise  with  hum  of  toil  and  mirth ; 

The  mountain  sleeps — even  as  the  mighty  dead, 
That  from  their  graves  yet  wake  new  life  on  earth. 

CHILLY  BLOWS   THE  WIND. 

COME,  O  Bertha,  from  the  storm ! 
Come  to  my  embrace, 


POEMS.  427 

Come  into  love's  sheltering  place; 
By  my  heart  thy  bosom  warm  : 

Chilly  blows  the  wind. 

To  my  breast  O  woman  turn ! 
Wilt  thou  be  my  own? 
Let  the  whole  world  freeze  like  stone, 
Ever  I  for  thee  will  burn  : 

Chilly  blows  the  wind. 

Bertha,  by  love's  radiance  taken, 
Lover's  vows  believes ; 
But  for  distant  shores  he  leaves: 
O'er  the  heart  of  the  forsaken 

Chilly  blows  the  wind. 

Bertha  prays  as  time  goes  slowly: 
Lord,  be  kind  to  me ; 
Take  my  child  and  me  to  thee, 
Let  me  in  the  grave  lie  lowly  • 

Chilly  blows  the  wind. 

'T  is  the  last  hour  —  by  the  dying, 
Weeping  kindred  stay; 
Sorrowful  for  her  they  pray, 
In  the  dread  death  conflict  lying 

Chilly  blows  the  wind. 

i 

Farewell!    Brothers,  sisters,  hear  me! 
Pardon  me,  O  Lord! 
And  to  him  thy  grace  afford  ; 
Death  approacheth — standeth  near  me: 
Chilly  blows  the  wind. 

In  the  grave  is  Bertha  sleeping, 
Late  so  young  and  warm, 


428  POEMS. 

Cold  her  baby  on  her  arm; 
O'er  her  broken  heart  is  sweeping 
Still  the  chilly  wind. 

M.    K.    W. 

*HAD  I   STRONG  FAITH. 

HAD  I  strong  faith,  then  all  unmoved  I  'd  gaze 
On  earthly  storms,  safe  in  my  port  of  rest, 

Unscared  by  jarring  cries,  or  troublous  days; 
For  that  safe  haven  is  God's  loving  breast. 

Had  I  strong  faith,  oh  how  serenely  then 

My  heart  the  tangled  knots  of  life  should  ope ; 

Whilst  cradled  lovingly,  both  joy  and  pain 
Would  rest  in  the  soft  arms  of  heav'nly  hope. 

Had  I  strong  faith,  no  passions  wild  would  sway, 
No  evil  thoughts  have  power  to  torture  me, 

No  galling  fetters  on  my  soul  should  weigh; 
Had  I  such  faith,  then  were  my  spirit  free. 

Had  I  strong  faith,  I  should  indeed  be  strong, 
Unmoved,  unscathed,  though  evil-doers  smite; 

Even  as  the  sun  o'er  clouds,  I'd  pass  along, 
Turning  all  cold  to  warmth,  darkness  to  light. 

Had  I  strong  faith,  Thy  holy  peace,  0  God, 

Would  ne'er,  as  ofttimes  now,  abandon  me ; 
I  'd  fight  my  fight  on  earth  with  dauntless  mood, 

And  find  eternal  peace  and  bliss  in  Thee. 
November  17th,  1814. 


POEMS.  429 

*I  TRUST  IN  THEE. 

TO    A   FRIEND    OF   MY   YOUTH. 

WHAT  is  't  to  me, 
If  them  at  times  dost  look  askance 
And  give  me  a  less  loving  glance? 
I  trust  in  thee! 

What  is't  to  me, 

Even  if  I  thought  thou  did'st  forget  me, 
At  times,  when  many  cares  beset  thee  ? 
I  trust  in  thee! 

What  is  't  to  me, 

If  I  perchance  thy  words  should  find 
A  little  colder  and  less  kind? 
I  trust  in  thee  ! 

I  trust  in  thee : 

I  know  that  beyond  time's  control, 
Even  in  the  depths  of  thy  undying  soul, 
Thou  lovest  me. 

Thou  lovest  me  ! 

And  though  all  earthly  ties  should  sever, 

My  heart's  clear  torch  would  burn  as  bright  as  ever : 

My  peace  in  thee ! 
April  15th,  1841. 


*THE  SAGE  AND  THE  CATARACT. 

TO    E1UK    GUSTAF    GEIJER.      1848. 

A  STRANGER  rapt  in  thought  stood  by  the  river, 
Where  it  leapt  down  into  a  cataract ; 


430  POEMS. 

He  watched  its  rushing  course,  he  saw  it  battle 
With  toppling  crags,  with  broken  forest  stems, 
Yea,  even  with  its  own  waves,  with  its  o\vn  might ; 
He  saw  the  foam  dashed  up  to  highest  heaven, 
He  heard  the  thunder  in  its  deep  caves  growling  ; 
He  saw,  —  and  gravely  shaking  his  wise  head 
With  disapproving  mien,  demanded  :   "  Wherefore, 
And  to  what  end,  is  all  this  toil  and  tumult? 
What  frenzy  goads  thee  on  to  such  fierce  warfare, 
Such  strife  for  life  and  death  with  all  around  thee  ? 
In  this  wild  vortex  thou  dost  lose  thyself, 
Thy  calm,  thy  crystal  brightness.     Better  far 
In  yonder  silent,  solitary  valley, 

Where  thou  didst  glide  serene  'twixt  shelter'd  margins, 
Reflecting  every  flower  and  tree  that  crowned  them, 
The  craggy  peaks,  and  lustrous  vault  of  heaven ! 
Then  thou  wert  clear  and  bright,  and  blue  libellulas, 
With  emerald  flashing  wings,  shot  downward,  rocking 
On  the  broad  leaves  of  silver  water-lilies, 
That,  heaving,  lay  upon  the  crystal  billow, 
Calm  as  an  infant  in  its  mother's  arms  ; 
Then  in  thy  lap  the  golden  sunbeams  showered ; 
The  queen  of  night  with  her  pale  lustre  kissed  thee; 
And  blooming  village  maidens,  gayly  tripping, 
Went  down  to  fill  their  pitchers  at  thy  waters, 
And  there  the  weary  laborer  quenched  his  thirst 
With  thankful  spirit.     Say,  what  would'st  thou  more  ? 
Oh  let  thy  life  be  spent  in  peaceful  labors ; 
Sweet  is  it  thus  to  bless  and  to  be  blessed, 
And  then  to  sleep  on  flow'ry  meadow's  breast ! 
Say,  is  not  this  enough  ?  "     Thus  asked  the  sage ; 
But  all  regardless  of  his  questions,  onward 
With  headlong  speed  the  cataract  rushed  impetuous, 
Cleaving  the  rocks  that  barred  its  foaming  current. 
Yet  one  reply  it  made ;  even  in  that  power 
Which  mighty  spirits  exercise,  constraining 


POEMS.  431 

To  follow  when  they  lead,  to  watch  their  workings, 
To  mark  their  onward  course,  the  end  that  waits  them, 
And  the  deep  meaning  of  their  life  and  struggles. 

And  thus  the  sage  pursued  the  river's  windings, 

Saw  how  at  hasty  intervals  reposing, 

Its  calm  and  radiant  «ye  looked  up  to  heaven, 

With  childlike  spirit  and  with  childlike  glances 

Reflecting  back  that  image  on  its  bosom  ; 

Then  wildly  rushing  on  to  wage  fresh  warfare 

With  open  foes  or  "hidden  obstacles, 

And  plunging  boldly  over  heights  and  depths 

With  an  intense  indomitable  purpose, 

As  to  some  fixed  and  ever  bright'ning  goal, 

He  marked  it  grow  more  calm  in  broadening  channel, 

Clear  to  its  inmost  depths,  like  some  brave  spirit, 

When  the  good  fight  is  fought ;  then  free  and  peaceful, 

A  glorious  river  'mid  rich  margins  flowing, 

Calmly  it  rolled  toward  the  ocean,  bearing 

Not  only  its  own  waves,  but  on  their  bosom 

A  world  of  human  labors,  human  hopes, 

Set  free  by  the  same  power  itself  that  freed. 

He  saw  the  stately  ships,  the  barges  slow, 

Alike  from  city  and  from  village  borne 

Upon  the  river's  arms  to  world-wide  marts 

Of  commerce,  while  light  winds  their  sails  were  swelling, 

And  joyous  songs  rung  in  the  evening  breezes. 

The  sage  rejoiced  ;  he  felt  the  answer  given, 

And  graven  in  his  heart     The  river's  answer 

Lay  in  the  tenor  of  its  noble  life ! 

April,  1847. 

And  thus  it  was  one  day,  on  banks  of  Clara  river, 

With  thoughts   all   fixed   on   thee,  fair  Wermland's  lofty 

son, 
That  one  who  loved  thee  well,  whom  thou  hast  called  "  thy 

friend," 


432  POEMS. 

Did  sing  this  song,  borrowed  from  thine  own  life,  to  thee. 

A  year  has  passed  away,  and  lo,  thy  noble  spirit 

Too  soon  has  burst  its  narrow  bonds,  and  winged  its  way. 

Freed  from  the  burden  of  this  earth,  to  cast  itself 

Into  the  ocean  of  God's  endless  love. 

His  name  confessing,  in  whose  name  thou  still  hast  striven, 
Before  the  sons  of  men,1  —  in  thy  last  prayer  on  earth, 
The  battle  thou  didst  quit,  at  peace  with  life,  at  peace 
With  thine  own  self,  to  seek  th'  Eternal  God,  who  rules 
O'er  strife  and  peace,  and  reap  thy  labors'  rich  reward. 

Yes,   thou  art  blest,  for  blest  is  he  who  thus  hath  ended ! 
Glorified  Spirit!     Do  thou  still  the  path  illumine 
Of  those  that  loved  thee  well ;  oh,  shine  upon  thy  people 
Whose  annals  thou  did  write  ;  thy  wife,  thy  children,  friends, 
And  —  even  on  her,  who  now  looks  up  to  thee  through 
tears. 


*  ON  READING  BISHOP  ESAIAS  TEGNfiR'S  POEM, 
«  RESIGNATION." 

HUSH  thee,  vain,  thoughtless  world  !     Hush,  he  is  speaking ; 

Once  more  he  speaks,  old  Svea's  minstrel-king. 

He  has  aroused  him  from  his  bed  of  suffering, 

'Mid  (Eta's  flames,  the  funeral  pile  of  Genius,  — 

He  strikes  his  harp.     Listen  ye  young  and  aged, 

Hear  how  the  spirit  worketh  in  Esaias, 

Hear  what  the  Lord  hath  to  His  servant  spoken 

In  the  dark  midnight  hours  of  pain  and  anguish. 

Well  didst  thou  sing,  O  b;ird,  of  "  Resignation," 
Thy  "  song  of  songs,"  life's  loftiest  it  is  ; 

1  See  Geijer's  confession  of  faith  in  his  last  printed  work,  A  Word  on 
die  Reliyious  Questions  of  Ihn  D  iy. 


POEMS.  433 

Led  by  this  power  to  God  in  adoration, 
Te  deums  we  shall  sing  in  realms  of  bliss. 

How  noble  is  thy  song  !     So  Phoenix  springs, 
Fed  by  a  fire  divine,  from  fragrant  ashes; 
And  o'er  the  desert  spreads  his  shining  wings, 
On  which  the  dawn  of  brighter  eras  flashes. 

Our  hearts  within  us  burn  !     Oh  speak  again,  — 
Our  ears  yet  more  thy  glowing  words  would  drink : 
Oh  speak  once  more  !     Teach  us  in  strife  and  pain 
Like  thee  with  noble  aims  to  feel,  to  think ! 

Racked  by  fierce  pain,  Heracles  stormed  with  ire, 
Wild  were  his  shrieks  and  loud  his  maledictions ; 
Thou  suff'rest,  too,  but  from  thine  altar  fire 
Ring  words  of  gentle  peace  —  and  benedictions. 

Heracles  lives  in  many  a  tale  of  yore, 
But  thine,  Tegner,  a  fairer  fate  shall  be  ; 
A  life  that  knows  no  grave  — yet  evermore 
A  life  on  earth  —  of  immortality. 

"Where  is  that  home,  in  which  't  is  good  to  be, 
Safe  from  the  surge  of  time  on  shelter'd  shore : 
O  Svea's  bard  !      Thy  country  answers  thee  : 
Here  liv'st  thou,  and  shalt  live  for  evermore. 

There  is  a  public,  light  as  ocean's  foam  ; 
A  people,  too,  there  is,  that  ne'er  shall  die  ; 
Within  its  arms  was  laid  thy  children's  home  ; 
Within  its  heart  shall  live  thy  memory. 

28 


434  POEMS. 


*  THE  SOUND  IN  TIME  OF  PEACE. 

HURRAH  !     How  briskly  the  south  winds  blow, 

Crisping  the  Sound  as  it  sleeps  in  the  sun. 

Hurrah !     What  sails  sweep  to  and  fro, 

Swelling  and  scudding  and  hurrying  on  ; 

Of  every  nation, 

Color  and  fashion, 

Foe  or  confederate, 

From  cities  small  and  great, 

On  the  blue  waters  that  dance  round  each  prow, 

Glowing  in  sunlight  they  come  and  they  go. 

And  Denmark's  green  shores,  how  they  gleam  through  the 

mist, 

With  gold  waving  harvests  round  "  Marienlyst ; " 
And  "  Kronoborg's  "  castle,  that  fortress  of  pride, 
Where  "  Holger  the  Dane  "  is  still  said  to  reside ; 
There  rise  Odin's  heights,  there  the  royal  town 
With  its  palaces,  churches,  and  towers  looks  down 
O'er  the  placid  wave.     But  from  Svea's  strand 
Frowns  the  dark  cliff  of  Kullen,  her  pride  and  her  boast ; 
A  greeting  it  sends  to  the  opposite  coast  — 
A  greeting  of  peace  from  the  "  Jernbarar  "  land  1 
And  Scania's  parks,  and  the  island  of  "  Hven," 
Where  rose  Brahe's  tower  on  the  starlit  plain  ; 
Those  shores,  once  ringing  with  warlike  cries, 
Now  bound  by  a  thousand  peaceful  ties, 
By  the  glittering  Sound  that  their  borders  laves  — 
They  look  on  its  waves. 

The  sun  shines  bright  over  sea  and  land, 
Sparkles  the  sail-laden  Sound  in  its  ray  ; 
Dolphins  gambol  and  hornbeaks  play, 
Fishermen  lay  out  their  nets  from  the  strand. 

1  The  Ironbeariny  land,  one  of  the  ancient  names  of  Sweden,  on  ac 
count  of  the  iron  which  is  one  of  its  chief  productions. 


POEMS.  435 

Smoking  "  dragons  "  with  track  of  foam 
Lash  their  tails,  as  snorting  they  roam 
From  city  to  city.     But  time  doth  flee ; 
The  sun  is  setting,  the  shades  grow  deep, 
The  waves  are  silent,  the  breezes  sleep, 
And  the  barks  lie  still  on  the  motionless  sea ; 
The  fisherman  hastes  to  his  cottage  the  while 

O 

To  rest  from  his  toil. 

The  boats  lie  empty  down  by  the  shore, 

The  butterfly  sleeps  in  the  drooping  flower, 

Every  blade  has  its  pearl  of  dew, 

Night  birds  fly, 

Arches  of  shadows  are  flung  o'er  the  sky, 

Stars  peep  forth  from  the  heaven's  deep  blue. 

Hark  !  the  evening  gun 

Tells  that  the  day  is  done ; 

While  the  broad  moon  o'er  the  glittering  tide 

Spangles  with  silver  the  sails  as  they  glide, 

"  God's  peace  "  proclaiming  from  shore 

O'er  Sweden  and  Denmark  for  evermore. 

Labors  are  ending ! 

Slumber  descending : 

Only  yon  beacon  keeps  vigil  there  — 

And  the  silent  prayer. 


*  MY  WRINKLES. 

IStf 

OH  runes,  by  time's  unerring  chisel  graven  ! 
Ye  wrinkles  slowly  gathering  round  my  eyes, 
Thanks  for  the  kindly  message  ye  have  brought  me ; 
Thanks,  for  ye  wake  no  terror  in  my  heart. 
I  know  your  meaning  well ;  fifll  soon,  ye  whisper, 
Old  age  shall  come,  with  silent  footstep  stealing, 
And  then  comes  death  —  and  it  is  time  to  bid 
A  long  farewell  to  this  world's  vanities, 


436  POEMS. 

To  flattery,  and  the  idle  lust  of  praise. 
Ah,  fatal  lust !  full  oft  in  fond  illusion 
We  deem  that  we  have  quenched  it,  —  mounted  far 
Above  it  on  the  wings  of  lofty  thought, 
Of  feelings  glowing  for  a  world's  redemption, — 
Deem  that  we've  drown'd  it  in  a  higher  love, 
In  prayer  and  streaming  tears  at  Jesus'  feet, 
When  lo  !  'tis  crawling  still  as  crawled  the  serpent 
Amid  th'  ambrosial  groves  of  Paradise, 
Luring  the  soul  with  false,  degrading  pleasures, 
And  tainting  life  with  venomed  shafts  of  discord. 
But  the  great  Lord  of  life,  who  sees  our  weakness, 
Sends  us  an  angel  messenger  —  pale  Time  ; 
And  lo!  Time's  angel,  grave,  yet  merciful, 
Compassionate  even  in  sternest  mood,  right  gently 
Prints  on  our  brow  his  stamp  indelible, 
Closes  the  temple  of  our  former  pleasures, 
And  posts  Scorn's  grinning  demon  at  its  portals. 
And  all  beyond  it  is  a  howling  desert, 
Of  uncouth  monsters  full,  that  eat  men's  hearts ; 
But  there  are  fair  and  sheltered  paths  as  well, 
That  lead  to  blissful  homes,  long  sought,  long  dreamt  of; 
And  there  a  voice  is  heard,  all  men  inviting 
To  realms  of  peace,  to  those  blest  tabernacles 
Where  dwells  the  good,  the  beautiful  forever. 
Oh,  to  those  heights  I  lift  my  folded  hands, 
For  there  He  dwells,  who  shall  make  all  things  clear 
Through  the  effulgence  of  His  might  and  mercy ; 
And  in  His  presence  it  is  good  to  be  : 
This  do  I  know,  if  I  know  naught  besides ! 
Oh  then,  my  soul,  be  youthful  evermore, 
Be  strong  in  faith,  be  strong  in  charity. 
And  follow  Him  to  everlasting  mansions, 
Undaunted,  though  this  house  of  clay  be  shattered, 
And  through  a  thousand  deaths  thy  paths  should  lead 
thee; 


POEMS.  437 

Yet  follow  Him,  till  thou  hast  reached  the  goal 

Where  He  will  turn  His  glorious  face  upon  thee  ; 

Then  shalt  thou  look  on  Him,  the  world  forgetting, 

Forgetting  thine  own  self —  and  oh,  thrice  happy, 

That  thou  canst  thus  forget,  that  thou  canst  die 

Unto  thyself,  and  live  alone  in  Him. 

Rejoice,  my  soul,  for  then  —  thus  say  the  Scriptures  — 

His  own  thou  shalt  be  called,  and  on  thy  forehead 

The  Lord  will  write   His  name.     O  thou  frail  body, 

And  O  ye  furrows  worn  by  time  and  weeping, 

And  all  infirmities  of  earth,  where  are  ye  ? 

Changed  to  the  glories  of  a  youth  eternal. 

Changed  to   God's  image,  to  His  holy  image! 

See,  "  All  things  are  made  new  "  —  all  save  the  gracious, 

Th'  eternal  Renovator  of  the  world. 

I  thank  you  then,  ye  runes,  Time's  noiseless  footprints, 

That  bring  such  kindly  message :  "  Time  is  waning." 

I  will  arise  and  build  a  tabernacle 

That  shall  endure  when  Time's  frail  tents  are  shattered  : 

Then  will  I  strive  like  holy  Paul,  and  tarry, 

"  Fill  we  shall  all  be  changed." 

SUMMER  EVENINGS. 

EVE  approaches ;  cold  mist  streaming 

O'er  the  earth  will  gather  soon, — 
Hide  the  stars  above  me  gleaming, 

Hide  the  smiling,  friendly  moon. 
Yet  't  is  naught  though  mists  do  tarry 

O'er  the  earth  before  my  eyes, 
If  the  spirit's  gaze  can  carry 

All  my  hopes  beyond  the  skies. 
No  —  earth's  clouds,  so  dark  and  dreary, 

Me  nor  fear  nor  doubt  can  bring ; 


438  POEMS. 

For  beyond  life's  desert  weary, 

I  car.  see  a  heavenly  spring. 
Draw  around,  ye  clouds,  and  cover, 

Shroud  me;  stars!  conceal  your  light; 
Yet  my  home  I  can  discover, 

Clear  the  way  lies  in  my  sight. 

M.  R.  vr. 

THE   GRAVE. 

[Probably  translated  by  Fredrika  Bremer  from  the  German.] 

How  dark  and  cold  the  grave  is, 

And  terrible  its  rand ! 
It  hides  as  deep  the  wave  is, 

An  undiscovered  land. 

No  sound  its  gateway  knoweth ; 

The  song  of  birds  is  still ; 
And  only  friendship  streweth 

The  flowers  o'er  the  hill. 

And  he  who  therein  sleepeth 
The  widow's  sigh  ne'er  hears ; 

E'en  when  the  orphan  weepeth, 
The  grave  admits  no  tears. 

O 

Yet  it  in  peace  exceedeth 

Each  spot ;  't  is  truly  fair  ; 
The  road  that  homeward  leadeth 

Must  ever  enter  there. 

And  from  all  storms  defended. 
Where  storm  and  conflict  cease. 

The  heart  its  throbbings  ended, 
At  last  obtaineth  peace. 

M.   R.    W. 


POEMS.  -130 

THE  LAST  SONG  OF  THE  LONELY  ONE. 

FALL,  gentle  snow,  fall  deep ; 
Make  cold  my  place  of  sleep : 
The  heart  that 's  burning  here 
Longs  for  the  coolness  there. 

And  when  I  sleep  below, 
Fall  faster  still,  kind  snow ; 
No  one  will  mourn  for  me. 
Then  hide  me  deep  in  thee. 

For  oh !  no  mother  will 
Kneel  at  the  lonely  hill, 
Nor  any  father  know 
Where  I  am  laid  so  low. 

Ah  me  !  no  sister  dear 
Will  give  my  grave  a  tear; 
And  there  no  brother's  grief 
Will  ever  seek  relief ; 

And  not  a  single  friend 
Will  ever  o'er  it  bend, 
And  in  remembrance  throw 
A  flower  on  the  snow. 

And  he  who  was  my  all, 
His  footstep  there  may  fall : 
Woe  's  me !  for  by  his  side 
She  walks,  —  his  chosen  bride 

Fall,  icy  snow,  fall  deep  : 
Make  doubly  cold  my  sleep : 
The  heart,  now  burning  sore, 
When  frozen,  feels  no  more. 


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